The Flintstones #6

It's the end of the world!

Not surprisingly, this issue with is called "The End of the World as We Know It". Surprisingly, I resisted adding the "as we know it" to my caption for the cover! More surprisingly, Mark Russell chose to do the thing every hack writer would have chosen to do by using that name. That's okay. I'd feel like I'd be in a better condition to judge if I wasn't sitting here feeling really horny for the fictional Betty Rubble.

Before we get to the part of the story where civilization breaks down at the thought of impending doom and everybody becomes savage barbarians bent on survival even if they have to eat their neighbor to accomplish it, let's take a look at how the experiment of civilization is coming along in Bedrock!

Yay! Civilization! I'll stay right here! Did I quote that song correctly?

Later, the bowling ball and the vacuum cleaner have a philosophical discussion about the meaning of life. Surprisngly, the vacuum cleaner doesn't come to the conclusion that life sucks. Unsurprisingly, I just did that tired old joke! The bowling ball, on the other hand, gives life a 9 out of 10. Brozingo!

Each comic book in this series is less like a coherent story and more like a bunch of sketches that revolve around a theme. Sometimes the book can be a bit more story-like than others, like last issue which was half Bamm-Bamm's origin story. I only mention it so that you'll stop wondering why every single one of my paragraphs begins with "Meanwhile" or "Later" or "Back in the Rubbles' bedroom." Because meanwhile, Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm are recruited by Professor Sargon (he's a satirical take on that computer Chess game from the Eighties, Sargon) to become interns at the Science Cave. They've recently gotten a grant to study the sex lives of moths. That's probably totally appropriate for high school kids because who knows more about terrible sex than they do? I suppose I'm being judgmental. For all I know, moths have great sex.

While Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm are doing unpaid work for Professor Sargon who takes an extra long lunch, the moths escape. That's probably a plot point and it'll probably be bad news for somebody! Maybe that's how the world ends? Not in fire or ice but moths.

I'm only scanning this for the Non-Certified Spouse. She has a moth phobia.

The moths begin to fuck which seems about on par with the filth The Flintstones used to air on television. While the moths fuck, Professor Sargon runs a astronomical projection program on his Applecus to discover that an asteroid is on course to strike the Earth!

Everybody panics in different ways. Bamm-Bamm declares he won't be going to school in the interim. Professor Sargon watches moths fuck. Fred, Wilma, and Pebbles attend service at the Church of Gerald.

I wonder how many pedophile priests have used the preach-around joke?

The Flintstones abandon the church when everything breaks out into chaos. Because the only thing keeping people civilized is the thinnest of social contracts. Most of us agree to not be a dick when we go out in public because we don't want to be the victim of dickitude ourselves. But once a small percentage of people decide to break that contract, we're all fucked. At that point, it's beat the shit out of the next guy with a club before he beats the shit out of you! Our social contract for peace rests solely on our selfish desire to not have to deal with other people's shit.

Bedrock is being destroyed by the panicked populace. Pebbles decides that Professor Sargon should recant his observation simply to calm everybody down. Let them die in three days instead of killing each other immediately. Professor Sargon refuses to be a part of a beautiful lie because he adheres to the ugly truth no matter what may come. It's at that moment he discovers the fucking moths messed up his calculations. See? They were a plot point!

I think this story means Mark Russell is a climate change denier. That's totally what he's saying here, right? Science can fuck up so we should never believe it! I mean, climate change? Really?! Show me one other planet that has ever become completely inhospitable to life due to an abundance of greenhouse gases! You can't, can you?! And if you can, I just won't believe it matters because if you said Venus, I say, "Pshaw!" Name a different one because I just won't accept that one.

The news reporter goes back on air to tell everybody that they aren't going to die. He goes on to say, "I hope we can all just go back to pretending we're good people, life being a series of mutually agreed-upon delusions designed to keep us from becoming ongoing accumulations of regret." That's so well said, I'm going to pretend I wrote it. I wrote that bit. Forget how I said the character in the comic book said it. It was totally me.

The Ranking!
No change because it's as high in the rankings as it's going to get until I decide I, ultimately, like it better than The Sheriff of Babylon. Maybe when The Flintstones reaches Issue #13, I'll give it the first spot. Until then, just know this is the most enjoyable monthly comic book I'm currently reading.

The Flintstones #5

This issue is about skullfucking T-Rexes.

Obviously it's not really about skullfucking T-Rexes! The skullfucking of the T-Rexes will be an analogy for some other modern day activity we engage in to the detriment of our animal friends around us. It'll probably be a commentary on the Westminster Dog Show. Is that a dog show? I think that's a dog show.

This issue begins with a salty look at how the most intelligent of us are at the mercy of a population of stupid.

Betty Rubble probably holds the record for person I've had a crush on the longest.

This issue is called "Election Day" because I'm that far behind on my comic book reading. It'll probably be a scathing critique of Republican voters and how after they're done voting, they go back to their secret I Voted Room (which they all have in their houses) to crank some of Rush's early hits while while an Ayn Rand look-a-like beats their genitals with whip made of hundred dollar bills.

Some readers might be thinking, "Tess! Why would you alienate conservative readers by expressing such horrible truths?!" Well, I feel the same way about Republican voters as I do about police. As long as the supposedly good police officers refuse to stand up themselves against the corrupt and racist and power mad authoritarian bastards in their ranks, I will never acknowledge any good police officers exist. And as long as conservative voters continue to simply vote Republican when the Republican Party has shown that they have no loyalty to any of their constituents who aren't wealthy or running a corporation, I'll refuse to believe there are any intelligent Republican voters. If you believe a country without government regulations or oversight is better than a country where corporations are allowed to do whatever they want, you're delusional. Because no matter how terrible the system is, at least with corrupt governments, you still have the comfort of possibly being able to vote them out. You can't do shit to a corporation except not buy their product which you're probably not buying already anyway. Although sometimes I think voting is about as useful as stating you're boycotting a company that doesn't even exist in your local area. I think that, when I'm at my most cynical, but at least voters have some kind of access to the people in power. Try getting a message to a corporation and see how fast they don't respond. I mean, I guess that happens instantly but you'll never know until years have gone by that they really don't intend to respond.

I know the general response to the previous will be a loud squawking of "What about Hillary? What about Hillary? What about Hillary?" which isn't an argument at all. It's just proof of my point about the lack of intelligence on the conservative voter's side.

At Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm's school, they're also holding elections. Some guy named Ralph's campaign slogan is "Vote for me or I'll punch you in the beef!" I like that he adds an exclamation point to it.

Clod is obviously the best pick for mayor. I don't even care about his message. He's just got great headgear!

Fred and Barney are concerned about the anger at the Lizard People because they remember years ago when the people of Bedrock let fear overtake them and they exterminated the Tree People. Back then, the people of Bedrock lived in fur tents and not the great civilization they have now. To get to that point, the trees needed to be cleared so that the construction companies could gain access to the granite to build the city. So Clod's father Mordok convinced the populace that the Tree People were terrible and evil and so fucking in the way. I mean, totally in the way! And not in a good way! They were sneakily in the way in totally selfish and evil ways. Fucking tree people! I'm getting angry just thinking about how in the way they were, just living their fucking lives and wishing to be left alone!

Most of Fred and Barney's peers enlisted to wipe out the Tree People because of the cool headgear. Anybody who has ever looked dapper (and felt dapperer!) knows that's a valid reason for genocide.

Actually, Fred is convinced to enlist because he has a new baby on the way. No better way to get people to fall in line than to make them feel like their children are threatened! No wait! There is a better way! Make them feel like their material possessions are being threatened and also the income that gets them those possessions and it really helps if you've already convinced them to buy a house so that they're sweating over losing the income that pays the mortgage on the place where they keep all of their material possessions and maybe some babies.

Barney and Betty are having trouble conceiving. Oh yeah! I just remembered Bamm-Bamm was a foundling! I bet he's one of those disgusting Tree People!

Fred and Barney continue to satirically remember their military training in preparation for the Tree People Slaughter (you probably remember it as the Vietnam War) while Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm try to deal with the impending election to class president of Ralph the Bully (you probably remember him as Donald Trump).

Pebbles' teacher is hot. I mean, she's intelligent with a great set of agencies.

Pebbles stands up after Portnoy withdraws from the race to tell her class that they probably deserve getting punched in the beef every day for the next year if they have no problem voting in Ralph. That seems a bit too on the nose, Russell! You're getting me depressed and I'm worried about my beef now!

Because Pebbles voices her opposition to Ralph without being scared of him, everybody decides to vote for her. Plus she has protection!

How are we supposed to eliminate bullies from our culture when I audibly cackled at him punching that nerd in the beef?! Am I part of the problem?!

I would like to reiterate from previous commentaries: Steve Pugh is doing a wonderful job on this book. How can you not completely fall in love with Pebbles so joyfully doing the Nixon?

Oh man. I just picked up the comic and glanced at the "Aaah! My beef!" panel again and sniggered like Muttley!

Back to the hilarious send-up of the Vietnam War (or any other modern American war for that matter. Just fucking take your pick, really), Fred and Barney realize that they were lied to about the Tree People invading when they stumble upon the burnt out ruins of the Tree People's home. That's where Barney discovers a survivor: Bamm-Bamm. Instead of stomping on it with his boot heel like a real American...I mean Bedrockian would have done, he takes it home and cares for it and raises it as if it were a real human person.

The Ranking!
I absolutely love this comic book. I would give up all of the other comic books for just this comic book. I would marry this comic book and impregnate it with the Anti-Christ. But I'm still going to only put it at #2 on my All Time (if all the time started like last November or whatever) Comic Book Ranking List because I look smarter if I have the intelligent comic book, The Sheriff of Babylon, above the silly, goofy, satirical comic book. And the only thing I really care about is looking smarter than I really am.

Cyborg #4

Interesting how Batman never gets torn to pieces the way characters like Cyborg, Robotman, and Red Tornado constantly do.

If you're supporting the American political party who thinks the problem in Washington, DC, is too much ethical oversight from independent sources, you might want to reconsider the things you've been lead to believe. I challenge any Republican to drop all of their usual news sources and simply get by for a week or two reading headlines from the Washington Post. Just the headlines! Then interpret that shit on your own, with your own values and beliefs, without any right-wing talking heads telling you how that shit doesn't actually mean the thing you just read. Previously, you'd have never read that headline anyway which made it even easier for the Fox News barfmonsters to convince you of their reality. People on the left are always being accused of being manipulated by the lamestream media but I guarantee a good percentage of liberal people don't even fucking care about the news. And yet every right wing anger bat who flutters into the face of anybody who espouses a liberal view to begin shrieking, "But what about Hillary! What about Hillary! What about Hillary!", slavishly sucks at the teat of Fox News and the snorefestival of right-wing radio hosts so much so that they all parrot the exact same responses.

At the very least, letting go of right-wing media outlets will ensure you'll be more entertained. Talk about unfunny! Even if I believed the things Rush or that square-headed guy on Fox said, I couldn't listen to them because they have a terrible sense of humor. Oh, Hannity! That's the square-headed guy! It's not surprising that they're not funny though because you need to be smart to be funny. And one thing right-wing talking heads are not is smart. Confident and smug and don't actually give a fuck about anything but their own bank account? Sure! But funny? Fucking hell no. There's this one shrieking harpy that's on early in the mornings after Clyde Lewis's Ground Zero on some right-wing radio station who thinks the height of hilarity is putting on a dumb person voice when she says things she pretends liberals say. At least the station managers understand that nobody wants to hear that shit so they stick her on past midnight.

The segue here is that American Democracy is becoming a nightmare, and in this comic book, Cyborg is currently having one.

Cyborg is battling the Justice League. He realizes it's a dream because they're battling on Mars and Batman isn't choking to death. Also, Wonder Woman's boobs are huge. Like, too huge. So big!

But fighting the Justice League isn't a good enough analogy for what's happening. He needs to come up with something more on the nose.

"I knew I was a complicated guy." What kind of a fucking fool actually says that about himself? Don't search my blog for that statement. I'm sure I've never said anything like it before ever.

Cyborg realizes the Justice League he's been fighting are actually malicious bits of software called Wyrmms. Gross. Cyborg has Wyrmms. Too bad for the Wyrmms, they can't just fuck up his programming. They have to actually fight a representation of Cyborg inside of Cyborg. Is that what Cyborg's firewall looks like? It's just a bunch of tiny Cyborgs?

In STAR Labs, an unconscious Cyborg is tearing the place apart. The only way to help Cyborg is to shut him down so they can remove the Wyrmms while he's inert.

Come on, Semper. You can't just be lobbing them over the plate like this. I'll never feel any satisfaction making a joke out of this!

Cyborg's journey through his mind allows him to recover a bunch of memories which make him feel human again. Apparently he's had his emotions locked away which is why he's felt more like a machine than a human. But he still doesn't find his penis. That's probably why he couldn't bring himself to remember that he and Sarah Charles were once madly in love. He blocked out her face in the memories because until he has a proper human penis instead of an attachment that substitutes for a White Noise Blaster, he isn't the man he knows she needs. What a tragic love affair! At least it's one I won't have to read the end of because I'm done with this comic book. I'm done with all Cyborg comic books forever and ever because not one has ever been interesting. He's a boring character who people have tried to make compelling but they're always doing overdone plots about robots versus humanity, and identity versus programming, and Daddy Issues versus football.

The Ranking!
No change! If I were to write a Cyborg comic book, I'd have him quit the Justice League because he's too often treated like a peripheral to the Justice League Watchtower computer. I'd have him move to Hollywood and go into porn. Then maybe his adventures would be a bit like Blue Devil but less goofy and more super duper sexy. Maybe his first plot would be dealing with both a human virus and a computer virus that work together to wreak havoc on his cybernetic body. I'd call the story "Robo-VD."

Midnighter and Apollo #3

I found the clitoris!

The Midnighter has discovered that Apollo is currently in Hell so now that's where he needs to go to rescue him. That's convenient because Midnighter was almost certainly already planning on visiting Hell to kill The Mawzir! Two birds and all that!

Recently, somewhere, I heard a person say, "Two stones, one bird." They meant it earnestly as if they were saying the actual saying instead of making it into a new saying that means the exact opposite of the saying they were going for.

The method Midnighter uses to go to Hell is the same one my mother assured me would send me there!

This reminds me of the jump rope counting song we used to sing: "If you can't handle the whole black candle, you won't be going to Hell! One inch, two inch, three inch, four! Five inch, six inch, take a little more!" Then you just count!

Some of you might be thinking, "What kind of fucked up kids use that as a jump rope rhyme?" You'd be forgiven for not knowing (or remembering) that I went to a Satanic Elementary School.

Meanwhile in Hell, Neron and Apollo enjoy a rousing game of "Mansion of Happiness." It's like an old timey version of the Game of Life except it doesn't try to teach kids that insurance is a good thing. Insurance is the worst! It's like placing bets on your own ill fortune. It's also a scam because without insurance, everything that any kind of insurance covers would cost far less than it actually does. Without insurance, you'd actually be able to save the money you use on insurance and pay for things insurance would have covered yourself! Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit here but there's a reason laws are made demanding everybody buy into the system. Also, insurance is a socialist idea that capitalists are trying to profit from. It's a way to force everybody who isn't unlucky to pay for the accidents which befall those klutzy, unlucky jerks reaping the windfall of all of our monthly payments! But guess what? We're all paying far too much on our premiums because we're not only paying to help cover other people's costs incurred by their bad luck, we also have to pay the salaries of all of the employees! And advertising! And other costs like toilet paper for the insurance company's offices! And you aren't even assured that your insurance will cover you when you have bad luck because they'll try their damnedest to prove that you don't deserve the pay out! Fuck you, The Game of Life, for normalizing insurance in the minds of squishy headed youngsters thinking they're just having a good time!

I've totally simplified insurance to make my point but you get it, right? It's a total scam! See? This paragraph totally backs up that last paragraph! Proof of concept!

If a stupid game can reveal hidden truths, then why aren't I a doctor with a wife and five kids who somehow discovered the Mona Lisa while driving along the turnpike?

Apollo is all, "No way, dude! It's not pride! It's sacrifice! Didn't you ever play Ultima IV?! You're using Lord Blackthorn's charts from Ultima V, dum-dum!"

On his next turn, Apollo lands on murder. The square is really cute and adorable with DC Comics Cain murdering DC Comics Abel with a farm implement. I grew up in the city so I can only call anything with a wooden handle with a metal bit on the end a "farm implement." I'm sure they all have different names but I've never needed to know them, so why learn them? Except for a hoe but that was only for the prostitute jokes.

Back on Earth, Midnighter is hunting for the Ace of Winchesters. I thought it was last given to the Lords of the Gun by Bendix for their help in killing Apollo but I could be mistaken because I read Issue #1 so long ago! Even if that was the case, I'm sure Midnighter will be able to track down the gun because he needs it to kill The Mawzir. He can't go to Hell just to rescue Apollo. He's got to do some serious killing and maiming while he's there or this series will just be a boring romance film.

Midnighter is able to locate a bullet for use with the Ace of Winchesters, so that might be enough. Or he's just going to have to fuck up the Lords of the Gun until they decide they'd rather not have every one of their internal organs torn out and then shoved back in by way of their anal sphincter anymore and just give up The Mawzir.

Apollo and Neron finish their game of "Mansion of Happiness" in much the same way all attempts to play The Game of Life end: in an argument. Neron shoves the board from the table and tells Apollo nobody ever beats him, probably because he never lets anybody finish, the sore loser. As that's taking place, Midnighter is getting his kill boner going on some minor demons of Hell. He's finally arrived and he's going to make sure he enjoys every minute of it.

Midnighter's first task is to hunt down the Lords of the Gun, take the Ace of Winchesters from them, load the gun, and kill The Mawzir, all while trying not to be killed by The Mawzir, presumably. But right from the beginning, everything goes tits up.

I hope one of Midnighter's skills is reforging rifles.

The Ranking!
No change! This whole Mawzir thing is just making me want to reread Hitman. I hope my Hitman comic books aren't in my mother's basement in California!

Midnighter and Apollo #2

White covers like this make me realize I really need to clean the glass on my scanner. Gross.

I have an irrational hatred of Jason Todd fans who reblog my more upbeat and positive commentaries on Scott Lobdell's Red Hood series. It portrays me as more reasonable and sensible and forgiving of Scott Lobdell's writing than I'd like to be portrayed. Please only reblog the ones where I discuss learning how to sew so that I can travel back in time and stitch up Lobdell's mother's vagina.

Hmm. You know what? Don't read that last paragraph. Or forget that you read it because even though the sentiment is "I wish Scott Lobdell had never been born," it comes across as misogynistic and violent towards women. Maybe reread it as me reading the Wikipedia article on performing castrations so I can go back in time and visit Scott Lobdell's grandfather. Then I'll just threaten him with castration if he doesn't sew up his daughter's vagina. With my luck, I'll probably accidentally visit his father's father which won't change anything I wanted changed at all!

You know what? Don't read that second paragraph either! This has really started out in a dark and disgusting place. Even I'm embarrassed for myself! Not because I wrote it but because my sense of pride won't allow me to delete it. All of my words, no matter how ugly and deformed and malicious, are my babies! I can't destroy them! This is why writers need editors. Because editors are cold-blooded assholes with a wicked grin, bloodlust in their eyes, and drying baby word blood all over their boot heels. Fucking monsters!

The moral of the story is that Jason Todd is a terrible character. Although I will admit he's more entertaining than Tim Drake.

At the end of the last issue, Bendix set a trap to lock Midnighter in a bunker with him where Midnighter wouldn't be able to save Apollo from being sent to hell by the Mawzir. In the months since I read that issue, I've often woken up in a cold sweat and thought, "Stop writing about sewing up women's vaginas! Giving birth to Lobdellian monsters isn't their fault!" No wait. What I wake up thinking is, "How does Bendix think he's going to survive after having Apollo killed? What is left to keep Midnighter from dismantling Bendix one cell at a time?" Then I jerk off into a sock to get ready for my day.

It almost feels like I'm writing this commentary to purposefully drive away people who found my blog thanks to Gail Simone! I don't think I am! I mean, I think I might be! But not the on purpose part! You know how people say "The heart wants what the heart wants"? I hate those people. I mean, I should say also, "The brain wants what the brain wants." And if you sit down in front of a keyboard and just let your thoughts spill out of you without any filter, sometimes you're going to say things that are funny, and sometimes you're going to say things that even Hitler probably would think twice about saying. And you know Hitler, right? He was apparently the worst person in the world. Although we might have to re-calibrate that now that Twitter exists. Some people are truly terrible and not pretend terrible like I've totally pretending to have been earlier in this commentary. Right?

Did you buy that? Maybe I should just say for the record, since it might have been called into question by this point, I'm totally and completely against sewing vaginas shut. I'm not even sure how vaginas work or if that could stop a woman from having a baby. All I know about the female anatomy is a riddle I was asked in fifth grade that I didn't understand for years: Why can't the Go-Gos have babies? Because their lips are sealed.

For a nerdy Lobot motherfucker, Bendix isn't as smart as I would have thought he was programmed to be.

The gauntlet that Midnighter must run to escape from the Bendix's Samoan Bunker (that sounds like a dessert I might one day invent) consists of a swarm of eagles with lasers on their heads, a screaming holograph of Thomas Jefferson that shoots eyeball lasers, GI Robot, a hail of throwing stars and arrows, vanilla pudding dropped from the ceiling like boiling oil, and a pit full of hungry babies. Midnighter manages to get through it all in time to stop Mawzir from shooting Apollo in the head. But I still think he's too late because the cover of the third issue shows Midnighter at the gates of Hell.

The Mawzir flees from Midnighter for some reason. Maybe because Midnighter reminds him too much of Tommy Monaghan. Or maybe The Mawzir is just smarter than me and knows when it's gone too far. Not that I've ever gone too far! Pshaw!

Oh! I've got an aside. Don't worry, it isn't about how truly stupid Donald Trump is. It's about the other Republicans in our government! Hey, Republican voters? I'm a big time liberal pinktard (is that what you call us?) and I don't totally disagree with some of Republican policies. I mean, I disagree with all of them currently (and probably have sense they decided governing should be closely related to elementary school recess interactions without an adult supervising (as I perceive it, that was sometime in the 90s after Clinton was elected and they were all butthurt that they weren't in control of filling their pockets with corporate and lobbyist money)). What I'm suggesting, Republican voters, is fucking do something about the people you want representing you. They're all selfish assholes who only care about maintaining their position of power and easy income. They don't fucking care about anybody and Trump is the best example of these monsters you've decided are somehow representative of the white working class (they're not. I'm fucking white working class and I would never agree with anything any of these current load of smegma-smelling idiots ever). Oh, I guess this was a little bit about Trump.

Shit. I just realized that off-topic paragraph was probably a waste of time. This is a comic book about two gay dudes! Why would a Republican be reading it?!

Stop fucking the bullet wound and get him to a hospital, you sicko perv!

Midnighter decides to put Apollo in a room pumping in solar energy to try to bring him back to life. I really hope that we don't have to put up with an Apollo Boy and a Cyborg Apollo and Apollo Steel followed by Red and Blue Electric Powered Apollo! I don't know if I could go through that again and I didn't even really pay attention to it the first time.

When the infusion of solar radiation doesn't seem to be working, Midnighter visits some guy named Extraño to find out where Apollo's soul went. It's so fucking obvious he went to Hell. You know why I think that. You know. I mentioned earlier how I've already seen the cover to Issue #3.

Midnighter discovers Apollo is in Hell being tortured by Neron. Uh oh. Apollo is in for a terrible time. Not because he's in Hell! But because shit rolls downhill and Neron has just recently been shat all over by Constantine. He's definitely looking to make somebody else's life crazy miserable. And by life, I guess I mean death?

Midnighter decides he's going to go save Apollo. Do you think he already knows how this ends? I do and he'd better not fucking look back on the way out!

The Ranking!
+1 Ranking! Reading well-written Midnighter stories makes me happy. It's like reading Batman stories but where Batman doesn't have a huge stick up his ass. Instead he has a huge dick up his ass! Har har! That joke was entirely too immature even for this blog because I really meant the thing about Midnighter being like Batman minus the stick up his ass. Comparing it to another thing that happened to me today — finding a used sanitary napkin on top of my work clothes — I'd say this is the best comic book I've ever read in my entire life! Also enjoyable today: using the term "sanitary napkin"! Now I'm picturing a vagina dabbing daintily at its ketchup-stained lips after removing the hot dog from its orifice. At a picnic, of course!

Shade the Changing Girl #3

Synchronized Swimming would be more interesting if the routines were improvised.

Here's a simple test to gauge your intelligence level:

A. How often do you worry about looking stupid?
1. Not often.
2. Semi-often.
3. Often.
4. I giggled at the use of the word "semi."

B. Have you ever found yourself exclaiming, "I am not stupid!", because somebody called you stupid for doing something stupid?
1. I've been called stupid but I had just done something stupid, so I was all, "Yeah, der! So dumb!"
2. I can't recall.
3. Yes, dammit!
4. I am not stupid!

C. How many times have you found yourself explaining to another stupid person that book smart people have no common sense?
1. Never.
2. When I was younger, maybe?
3. A few times.
4. What do you mean "another" stupid person?! I am not stupid!

D. Do you often vote against your own self-interests?
1. Probably because our system isn't built to order a system catered entirely to my own personal needs.
2. Nope!
3. How is voting for less taxes against my own interests, right? More money for me! Holla!
4. Yesterday, I gave a fetus an assault rifle.

E. How annoyed do you get when people know things without having to consult their phones?
1. Annoyed? You meant overjoyed, right?
2. Not much if they're not smug about it.
3. Knowing things without asking Google? That's a thing?
4. Fucking elitist bitches.

F. How much of your news do you get from YouTube videos?
1. Seriously? People get their news from YouTube? Isn't it just raccoon videos and BBC shows flipped right to left so they don't get taken down?
2. None. I just use it to watch old videos from the 80s.
3. Just pop culture stuff.
4. Have you heard that the Earth is flat?

Now add up your score! The higher you scored, the dumber you are! If you can't add up your score, you're really fucking stupid!

I probably shouldn't judge people who can't add too harshly. It's not like intelligence alone dictates your ability to add. First you have to be taught to add! Then, if after you've been taught, you still suck at it, I can judge!

I don't have a sweet segue to get me from that to the comic book, so this sentence will have to do.

Shade is having trouble getting back on the synchronized swim team because she doesn't know how to swim in a human body. Back on Meta, she was some kind of bird person. So now she's all, "I don't float with ease! How are these gangly limbs supposed to keep me above water? Which hole is my cloaca?!" Thankfully, she has a boy Megan used to fuck stalking her who knows how to swim and is willing to teach her. I also might have used thankfully incorrectly there.

Meanwhile, the pink girl in space is headed toward Meta. It must be Megan's soul and she's seeking Loma's body because it's wearing the Madness Vest. Instead of being in the Area of Madness, Loma's body is in a glass case in her boyfriend's apartment. That will make it more entertaining when Megan takes it over because she'll be able to wreak havoc on Meta and teach everybody about the power of the mean girl.

Megan's messages to Teacup look like my Xbox received messages after playing Call of Duty.

Shade decides she needs to figure the whole Megan thing out if she's going to survive among the people Megan knew. So she climbs deep into her body's subconscious where Megan's memories still half-reside and begins rooting around in them for clues about the life she's going to have to try to lead.

On her inner journey, Shade learns that her mom is a dope, her best friend is a dupe, her boyfriend sucks at grammar (but can identify Mars in the sky, so he's cool with me), and Megan herself has been a fucking jerk to Teacup. So she decides to check with her neighbor River to find out why Megan was so hated. River never knew Megan personally so it's okay if he helps her. He shows her a BookFace group full of the people she's bullied. It's so traumatic for her that she has a Madness Seizure. River begins to suspect she isn't Megan at all but Shade flees the scene because what else can you do when your innermost being is suddenly splattered all over a stranger's room?

The next day, Shade decides to learn how to swim with the help of Megan's old boyfriend. It goes fantastically! I mean the part where she relearns how to swim goes fantastically. The part where she beats the shit out of Megan's old "friends" because they threaten to kick her off the swim team doesn't go that great.

Meanwhile, the pink girl is still floating around observing the universe.

The backup story is a Dial H for Hero story. A girl named Christy is working at some kind of Hard Rock Cafe but superhero themed. On the wall is the Dial H for Hero dial. When a customer begins attacking his girlfriend, Christy decides to use the dial! Probably because if she saves this woman, she'll get a B-I-G-T-I-P! And she does! Sort of!

She gets a kiss from...me?! Try to ignore the part where I'm killed!

Christy untransforms when the villain appears because this is one of those stories where the villains are caused by the heroes. Except that's not the point and I know it! That's just one of my issues with mainstream superhero comic books interfering with my ability to understand this story on the most basic of levels. I'm also disappointed that with all the words that only use letters in the word HERO which form the skeleton of this story, the writer forgot to use O-R-E-O.

The Ranking!
No change! A lot of the time, I give a comic book a "No Change!" rating simply because I don't want to have to adjust the sideboard rankings list. I'm not even sure where this comic book is placed on the rankings (or if it's even on there at all! I should probably check. No, no. If I check and it's not there, I'll have to add it which is more work (not much more work but still more!)). But I do like this book even if it probably wouldn't make the top of the To Read pile on the weeks it comes out.

Shade the Changing Girl #2

Whoa! Look how crazy this comic book looks! It must be super smart and insightful and full of the arts!

People generally look down on happy, cheerful, and joyous people as stupid jerks. Because they obviously can't be intelligent if they aren't angry or dissatisfied! The way you prove how smart you are to somebody else is to point out how fucking stupid and terrible everything is. But I think happiness and joy get a bad rap simply because it's not as intense a feeling as sadness or pain or heartache or anger. But as an older person (not that older! You'll see soon, you jerko young people! You'll be old one day too! That's my curse on you!), I don't want to constantly be bothered by intense emotions. Drama doesn't make life exciting. It makes life tiresome and distracts a person from enjoying themselves. Who has the energy to be angry at everything all the time?! Not me! About all the energy I can muster is a biting word or two thrown out into the void of the Internet like a tithe to the Gods of righteousness and condemnation. If you young people want to be so angry about everything, I don't mind. But you're really exhausting me about some of the bullshit you get angry about. Christ. Stop going off like a shotgun and blowing holes in everything! Maybe work on getting laser focused and fixing something big like sexism or racism or something because I'm tired of getting hit by your buckshot every time I call somebody a retard. Let's face it: I'm definitely going to call my friend Doom Bunny retarded at least three times this week. But it will be in private so you probably shouldn't be angry about it. Also, I probably shouldn't have admitted to doing it. Mostly because I probably won't do it and now people will be mad that I even joked about it! Because words literally cause harm, if you fall for that sort of propaganda used to get people to just shut up and act the way other people want them to act. You can't shame a person who has no shame, motherfuckers!

That point I made about people criticizing things to prove how smart they are? I wanted to say something else about that! I've always found it's easy to read something and instantly tear it apart because it doesn't meet the approved standards of the person reading it. I find it's much harder to quell those instantaneous reactions and take a moment to think, "What if I'm wrong? What if I'm just reacting to the most shallow aspect of the thing? What if I were to take a second look and try to figure out what makes this thing, this art, interesting, or well created, or intelligent?" You aren't always right because you thought the thing you thought, you cocky fucking bastard. Sometimes things aren't terrible simply because you thought they were terrible on first inspection. It's much smarter to ferret out the good in something than to tear it apart and shit all over it. That's something even dogs can do! And they're super dumb!

Oh, sure! Now the dog lovers are all up in arms! But you know, in comparison to a lot of creatures, dogs are pretty fucking dumb. If you taught your little brother the kinds of things you taught your dog, nobody would be impressed by your little brother's intelligence. They would just think he's a fucking idiot for doing everything you tell him to do. Give me an animal with a sense of fucking dignity! Like a raccoon!

So now you're going to argue with me about how a filthy animal that digs in the trash has any dignity?! Sheesh! Maybe if you invited the raccoon in for tea, you'd see just how much dignity one has. Have you ever thought to do that? No? Well, fuck you then! You don't know what you're talking about! Raccoons are quite dapper and dignified when invited round for tea and biscuits.

This comic book is take itself too literally.

In this comic book, the poetry of Shade the Changing Man, Rac Shade, appears in rainbow colored Narration Boxes. The Narration Boxes of Shade the Changing Girl, Loma, are in blue. Then there are pink Narration Boxes that belong to somebody else. They appeared last issue but I just assumed they were also Shade's. That was a bad assumption because you know what they say about assumptions? I thought I knew but I can only make the word ass and u and mptions out of that, so I guess I was wrong about what they say. Anyway, the pink Narration Boxes belong to a third person. Possibly Megan who was pushed out of her own body? Or maybe it's some aspect of Loma that's left in her Metan body still in the Area of Madness. There's a moment this issue where a pink comet is zooming past a sun and moon in space thinking, "What. Where. Why. Wow." See? It's probably Megan. Just like some aspect of Troy Grenzer remained when Shade took his body, Megan's consciousness is still out there and still somehow attached to her body.

Shade walks into school for the first time since she came out of her coma and she quickly realizes everybody at the school hates or fears her. Why do I suddenly have the urge to croak "Corn Nuts?" and over enunciate the word "eskimo"?

Meanwhile on Meta, Mellu is investigating the Case of the Stolen Madness Vest although it hardly matters. Whoever took it probably put it on (they did!) and their body is now slowly decomposing in the Area of Madness (it is! Probably!).

Shade discovers the library at high school, much to the chagrin of a small girl. It's probably Teacup, right? It's been so long since I read Issue #1 that I don't remember if Teacup made an appearance before Megan drowned while doing a shitload of ecstasy. Anyway, it's obvious that Megan never showed an interest in the library before, and this tiny girl (Teacup, right?!) used to hide out here from the mean girls.

Ugh! Don't read Yeats! I can't bear to read a character who picks up a book of Yeats poetry and understands it without any outside sources or further reading! But if she is going to get into Yeats, please at least let her read something other than "The Second Coming"! Yeats wrote way more poems than just that one!

Heather's Numbers Two through Four come in search of Teacup in the library. But Teacup hides from them, as does Shade. But she can't help herself from engaging in a little Madness. Probably because she doesn't have any real control over it. Maybe it's her Madness Nemesis! Shade the Changing Man had the American Scream. Maybe Shade the Changing Girl has the American Teen!

I can name all of the books, plays, and poems these are from! The whale is obviously from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the one-eyed thingy is from Lady Chatterley's Lover, the hand holding the skull is from Harry Potter and the Skull of Squicking, the letter A is from Dr. Seuss's ABC, the raven is from The Sandman, and the cat is from Garfield.

Shade thinks that maybe Teacup was her friend but Teacup is terrified of her. So she makes a big scene in the library and some guy named River is all, "I'd heard you were all about the drama. But do you mind having it somewhere else?" Right?! Libraries should totally be drama-free zones! And anybody who ever makes a scene or an uproar or a loud sneeze in a library should be banned for life. Libraries should have no tolerance policies for shenanigans! Although I did once masturbate in the stairwell of the library at Portland State University, so obviously I only mean that if the person gets caught they should be banned for life!

I almost certainly, probably, never did that thing I just said I did. So gross! Besides, I was barely eighteen! Possibly even still seventeen! I was too young to cope with the freedom of college! Besides, nobody ever specifically sat me down and said, "Do not masturbate in public stairwells."

Anyway, River is Shade's neighbor. He never knew Megan so Shade feels like maybe she can safely become a friend of his. He might not be thinking the same thing but I bet he gets pulled into her madness anyway. Especially because his name is River and that's got to be symbolic for something soon!

Meanwhile, the pink girl in space with the pink Narration Boxes makes an appearance. So, see, that's another character or something!

Shade goes home to watch old timey television and ponder how she's going to figure out who Megan was and how to make her better. Then it's time for the back-up comic!

The back-up comic book isn't worth reading. It's all in-your-face about how change is a good thing and not changing is a bad thing which totally ends with a sex joke. I think. I don't know. I stopped paying attention to narratives that feel like clubs to the back of the head.

The Ranking!
No change! I'm not infatuated with this book but I'm still intrigued and enjoying it. So that's a review, right?