Buy These Flippin’ Comics!!! (12.11.13) – Macho Man’s Lazarus Pit
Being a bro means many things. The word has decayed, transmuted, metamorphisized throughout the ages. The term has been passed from one culture to the next, each co-opting the sacred letters for their own means. Those who wield Thu’um have used the word for power, pain, and glory. At its truest essence, being a bro means coming through for another bro in moments of need. Strip away the smell of Milwaukee’s Beast, peel off the layers of Frat Hall grease, and you will find such a truth. So when Johnny Hotsauce said that The Tricky Thing Called Life was keeping him away from this column, I decided to be a bro. Help a bro. Make a bro. For life.
Now I’ll level with you. There are a couple things I’m better at than Johnny Hotsauce. Eating sixteen pizzas in front of a disgusted family and tee-ball team. Desperately shitting into a toilet four minutes before I have to teach a class and still making it before the bell rings. Torrents of man-chocolate glossing the ceramic throne, all while I’m counting seconds and checking Tumblr. However, writing a comic books column is where Hotsauce has me bested. By a considerable portion. So I supplicate myself before you folks. Accept my bro-powered offering until his return next week. I know I am not worthy, but I know I am a true bro.
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Batman #26: Remember that thing I said about sucking at writing comic book columns? Yeah — here’s the first fucking example. Case in point. I really enjoyed the first couple issues of Snyder and Capullo’s take on Batman’s origin in their “Year Zero” arc. So what do I do? I decide to spend the next six months not fucking reading it! What have I been doing with the money instead? Great question. I’ll provide the answer. Pizza, a PlayStation 4, four or five Monster energy drinks a day, 2 Guns, Ender’s Game, Other Shitty Movies, toilet paper, gasoline for my automobile, new underwear, an engagement ring, six butt plugs for three really good friends, a latex body suit for Halloween (and the police station afterwards), nine skins for my siren in Borderlands 2, three subscriptions to Everythingbutt.com (please don’t go there it is NSFW), and a cumulative seventy-nine pounds of Laffy Taffy.
Like I said, I’m a fucking idiot. None the less, I’m going to get on my rectification grind this weekend. Pop open the old Comixology application on my intergalactic-Pad. Purchase all the issues that I have not read yet. Get my life together. Or at least complete my New 52 run of Batman.
They’re pretty much the same thing.
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Krampus #1: During the Christmas season, my children shall know of two things. The first thing they shall know of is embarrassment. Seeing their father stamp on Christmas lights on the roof while screaming because he “can’t find that cunt of a bulb that is out!” Watching their father elbow drop the mall Santa because he “didn’t like where that fat old fuck was putting them hands” on his wife. The inevitable chunky egg nog vomit-covered sweater they’ll find him wearing (and only wearing) pretty much every Christmas morning. They shall know of embarrassment.
The second thing they shall know of is Krampus. The good ‘Pus is a hell of a figure to watch over the Holidays. Far superior to Santa Claus. That corpulent pig. Socialist swine. Krampus doesn’t fuck around. If you’re a kid and you’ve been bad during Christmas season? Krampus is ready to light your ass up with a birch stick. No. Seriously. He isn’t friggin’ around. So I’m glad that The One True Mythical Beast of the Christmas season is getting his own comic book.
It doesn’t hurt that said title sounds fantastic.
There is a society of Santa Clauses. Their magical ability to distribute cheer has been stolen. So they call in the one Man-Demon who can save them. Sounds radical, no? Christ, the preview describes the comic as “Snake Plissken by way of the Grinch.” I don’t know what else you need.
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Lazarus #5: No, I don’t know what is going on with the cover to Lazarus’ fifth issue. Some eerie computer-generated rendition of Forever when she was like six years-old or some shit. That can’t stop me from pimping the title, though. Lazarus was a title that I was iffy on (for what it is worth when a homunculus idiot is iffy about something) for the first few issues, but now it’s captured my heart. A slow boil filled with Lark’s artwork, Lazarus is a wonderful brew of modern politics and science nudged just a little into the future. ‘Cause we can’t handle modern critiques. No way. Not the lot of us. Our brains shut down, our ideologies shooting in the direction of what believe is the Correct Party. However take that shit to the past or the future? Then all of a sudden we’re willing to pick up what you’re putting down. Maybe. Just a theory. I am a fucking idiot who has diarrhea before classes, is going to puke on my Christmas sweater in the future, and spends more money on fetish porn sites than comic books.
Take it all with a grain of salt. Or a hazmat suit.
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Miscellaneous Debris: The fifth issue of Satellite Sam drops this week. I wasn’t sold on the title by the end of the first issue, and perhaps stupidly jettisoned it from my pull-list. Always a chance I pick it up later based on buzz. Meanwhile in Marvel’s Ultimate universe Galactus continues to eat people. At least that’s what I imagine he is doing. Just ripping people out of skyscrapers. Popping them in his mouth by the thousand-full, chowing them down like meaty popcorn. If my speculation is correct, you can enjoy all of this Galactus splurges like a fatty on humans action in this week’s Cataclysm Ultimates #2. Finally, over at IDW Sam Kieth’s Maxx is getting a spit-shining. The original series is being completely rescanned and given gorgeous colors that Kieth himself is overseeing. Interested? Snag Maxx Maxximized #2.
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That’s it for me. I’m done! Gone! Next week Hotsauce is back. Until then wipe your tears away and share what funny books you’re grabbing off the (digital?) shelves this week.