| there is no such thing as the hundred and four |

Commentary Track for March 10th Buy Pile Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 11:09:00 +0000

Holy crap.

I started writing The Buy Pile at CBR on March 9, 2006. Four years ago.

It also seems that I started writing the column as a whole on March 5, 2003.

A seventh anniversary. Seven years is a long time. Wow.

Yeah, there were comics, and whatever, but that's ... wow.

I don't even know what to say about that. Okay.

Sorry I'm not more chatty this week, I'm just bugged out over that.

Watching (TV): Men of a Certain Age, "Father's Fraternity"

Scattershot (life/music/cars/phones/culture)

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 00:27:00 +0000

Many of you are too new to the web to remember, but I INVENTED THIS SH##! The return of the bullet point blog, fool!

- As you may have noted, I was home alone part of the weekend, and within 36 hours, I basically degenerated into savagery (albeit observant savagery). I ate microwaved frozen food, I sat for hours on end in a leather recliner with a laptop, entertaining me and accepting the movement of my fingers. Bananas. The family's back and I'll enjoy a return to food that's cooked and sleeping before 2AM. Well, mostly (a new baby will keep you up with those night time feedings, y'all) ...

- If you haven't copped it yet, Janelle Monae is on freaking fire right now. Her singles "Cold War" and (even more impressively) "Tightrope" with Big Boi from Outkast ... unmitigated heat. Crazy, crazy, fire and eruptions of flames, yo. Wow. I pointed out links when they hit over on my linkroll but I haven't checked to see if they're still available. If you can catch her stuff, do, she's amazing.

- While we're on the subject of music, is anybody in the game doing it like Trey Songz right now? Between his monster smash "Say Ahh" (which I could imagine being so hot at the club ... you know, back when I used to rock clubs) and his relentless reign of remixes and releases online (he's all over the blogs like Wordpress ... more on that in a few moments) just won't let up. I like his voice -- he has a nice range that comprises both masculine lower frequencies while working through some bright tenor notes -- and despite his saddening propensity for using a certain racial slur, he's quite talented musically. Well, okay, when he said, "Imma beat ya body like a congo," he should have gone for "bongo" to make the rhyme work, since Congo is a country and conga doesn't rhyme. A minor quibble -- his Jasmine Sullivan response was hot (not as hot as The-Dream's remix, another great modern hitmaker, but I digress), I was rockin' his "Absolute Heat" freestyle while I did late night dishes this last weekend ... great stuff.

- Also crazy is Cypress Hill's "Armada Latina" with Mr. J-Lo Marc Anthony and the patron saint of clubbing, Pitbull. Catchy as hell chorus, rockin' beat, solid lyrics (what I can understand of 'em anyway, sorry, I took French in school) ... I can imagine going to my old favorite Thursday night gig at Sully's, saving this to be the last song ... and watching mutha####as go crazy. Perfect for any party-motivated crowd with at least 25% Latinos in attendance.

- Moving from music to motoring, my wife's tooling around in a brand new car I got for her. She used to push this reliable 1999 Honda Civic coupe, but that two door action wasn't the business for two kids. So we put our plan together and worked it out like Beyonce, Jurassic 5 or Jack LaLanne (and yes, I showed my age on that one, whatever -- I'm thirty-seven years old, dawg, come on). I won't show you her exact model because she has enough stalkers in the world, but here's an idea of what her new whip looks like ...

"... ain't a thang, got the whip game mastered ..."

... and she's very happy with it. A happy wife makes a happy something or other, so I'm happy too.

Although, from my own perspective, I like an actual trunk. I'll stick with American sedans ... especially after I'm hearing something about foreign cars not being as reliable as people say ...

- Yes, that was a cheap shot. I'm not proud of it.

- ... okay, yes, I am.

- One foreign thing I am happy to buy will be a cell phone. On Friday night, I plan to order myself a Nokia N900 (unless you'd like to get it for me, hmmmm?) and plunge myself into comprehending a Linux phone. I've talked about it before and finally the gods of finance and timing are aligning to give me digital nirvana. Yes, I'm buying it full price, unlocked, just like I did with my dearly departed Treo 680. I'll be reporting more on how that works out as it goes -- yes, I have a feeling vlogging is coming from The Operative Network. No promises!

- In "stuff I found and just love" news, if you're not in some way forced to silently nod at The Impossible Cool then I don't know what the heck is wrong with you. Dude, check Sidney Poitier. Peep the pimpin' from your man man from Scotland, Sean Connery. How many times will you see a photo of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. playing pool with some old cats like he was a hustler? You've gotta feel the J.D. Saligner quote at least! Yes, the "older" buttons being on the left is counterintuitive and the site smacks of the Church of the 20th Century's fixation on booze and smoking ... STILL!

I have a gang more to do, but I'm trying to moderate the length of these things because I'm told my largely US-based audience can't stay focused on one thing for more than hey there's a penny, cool ... wait, what were we talking about?

Playing (Music): "Eenie Meenie" by Sean Kingston ... what, don't judge me! I don't need your pity!

TV imitates comics

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 04:42:00 +0000

So, the show Psych has this episode called "Think Tank" which has the two main characters Sean and Gus are recruited into a consulting group of experts in various fields to consider every single possible scenario in which a Richard Branson-styled billionaire will be assassinated. Before the second commercial break, I had a suspicion that the snippy security consultant Walter Snowden was, in fact, part of the problem.

The funny part about this is that a while ago, comic book company Boom! Studios had a comic called Unthinkable where -- hang on -- "following the events of September 11th, novelist Alan Ripley is recruited into a government think tank alongside several other creative minds. Their job is to conjure up the wildest disaster scenarios they can possibly think of, but the think tank is eventually closed and Ripley is sent on his way. Years later, the attacks that Ripley and his compatriots hypothesized start coming to fruition."

Sure, there's an Unthinkable movie in the works, but this is a cute end run, "borrowing" the ideas of popular fiction. I notice these things, sadly.

Watching (Hulu): Psych, "Think Tank"

A Stay of Execution

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 04:21:00 +0000

Hh.

Mmph. Ain't that about a beezy?

(Click to enlarge)

Looks like somebody blinked, a little anyway. I'm in a little bit less of a hurry, but I still plan to ditch this sinking freaking ship shortly. Real spit.

Watching (Hulu): Burn Notice, "Good Intentions"

Commentary Track for Two Weeks of The Buy Pile

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 22:30:00 +0000

All righty then.

Last week I was slammed at work and couldn't do a Commentary Track. Sorry. Like you freaking care. This week has been pretty brutal too, but I wanna squeeze all I can get from Blogger before I've gotta get out of this place ...

I like the idea of Gravel and a lot of what's going on, but the pacing is often really slow, making the "wait for the trade" mentality make more sense. Problem is, with my scatterbrained, episodic ability to enjoy entertainment between work and family and writing (more than I've done recently, thanks), I never get trades. They're too much of a time suck. I even load actual books on my phone, to read in snippets stolen from grocery lines or long meetings. Just a note, probably the biggest concern with this ongoing, the pacing.

Hit Monkey sucks. I said it. You can quote me. It should be hilarious and it's just a lead balloon.

I need Marvel to do something on their website. I need a round table with Amadeus Cho, Layla Miller and the newly (scarily) smart Valeria Richards. Honestly, I'd like to see Vril Dox moderate, but that's the stuff of fan fiction. Just letting those three loose would tickle me pink (if written well). I don't believe all three have ever been on panel together, and they're among Marvel's most interesting characters (to me) right now. Layla Miller singlehandedly brought me back to X-Factor, because the other characters that got my attention (Monet, Guido) were not getting the time they needed either.

Jonathan Hickman needs to go back to the indies. I said it. He's too good to be wasted in such a way, on plots that are too finite for his grandeur. I'm debating whether or not Fraction should follow. H1-X1 my butt.

I have to make two interesting notes about my (ongoing) criticism of Blackest Night -- I got an email from a reader named Michael Zack (thanks for checking out the work) who wrote:

I was just reading your "Buy Pile" on Comic Book Resources, and I'm the guy who was sitting in a corner crying because of Blackest Night #7. That series is devoid of any literary merit. It's only goal is to minimize reader creativity and spirit and push forward fan boy moments for that cheap thrill.

I weep for the future of the industry if this is considered to be the gold standard.

That almost made my day (the smiles and hugs of my wife and daughters beat it out, though).

Then I got a nice name check in Jeff Patterson's SF Signal column, where he said ...

... and the fanboys just keep lapping it up, buying it in droves and spouting glowing reviews with each fresh defiling. And the public doesn't care. People shriek about the portrayal of Teabaggers in Captain America, but have no problem with the dim-witted idea of 100,000 Kryptonians immigrating to Earth or the Green Goblin being put in charge of National Security.

(It needs mentioning here that Hannibal Tabu, who writes The Buy Pile column at Comic Book Resources, has been diligent in finding this stuff offensive. Kudos, Hannibal)

Much appreciation, Jeff.

This is not me saying that agreement makes me right nor more valid -- perish the thought. I just don't know how to respond to the positive mail I get (way, way, way more than the negative, as the detractors, even the professionals, normally just talk crap about me on message boards I've never visited), so I'm trying "public gratitude" on for size.

Also: I must note that Quislet (the schoolteacher/retail clerk known to some as Adam K, who lost the famous case of Namor's ankle wings) first declared that Sinestro was Space Hitler, now wielding the light of the whitest, er, Brightest Day, not me.

Now, as to crossovers in general. Here's my feeling of most DC crossovers since maybe just after Identity Crisis -- "let's keep adding more and more ridiculous situations and see what happens!" From the Mouse House of Ideas, it seems less fanfic-ish, as they'll let a weird circumstance (Norman Osborn as head of national security) stand for a long time and leave ramifications of it even after they essentially roll things back to their "mandated by licensing" standpoints. I like lots more individual moments in DC branded comics, but as a general feeling of zeitgeist, make mine Marvel. Just my thoughts.

If you're not up on Dingo, you completely missed out.

Lalo Martins never told me what was wrong with Great Ten.

John Layman's doing some interesting stuff with Chew.

In that I haven't had a "nothing sucks" week in recent memory, I'm ecstatic to say I loved loving comics this week (despite my wife, people at the shop and random passers-by believing I hate everything, despite starting every column with glowing praise ... whadda ya gonna do?) ...

That should do it for now.

Playing (Music): "Say Ahh" by Trey Songz feat. Fabolous

Exodus: Movement Of The Bloggers

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 18:45:00 +0000

I have to get out of here.

Soon, Blogger will stop supporting FTP publishing, which means that my little experiment with "trusting" servers I don't own will soon end in tears and I won't be able to go to the web to post these crazy little missives. If you see the little orange and white "B" next to the URL of this site, you'll note that this is a Blogger-driven website. Change is coming to me whether I like it or not.

I am less than pleased about that, especially given that I don't have much time to do anything about it. I mentioned this briefly already.

A host (pardon the pun) of alternatives present themselves, each zanier than the last. A good, good friend installed a Wordpress server on my personal domain, where I'm doing some experimentation. Here's the options I'm debating:

Go back to plain jane HTML blogging, manually FTPing files to my domain(s), creating my own RSS feeds (pain in the butt) and writing the blogs "on the road," transferring them from plain text to the blog when I can sit down at a computer ... retiring The Hundred and Four in the process and moving all blogging operations back to the mothership on The Operative Network.
Let Google shake me down on The Hundred and Four for a custom domain and suck it up (less than attractive)
Finagle the Wordpress install my homeboy did on my domain and somehow make it look like a page that doesn't make me wanna throw up in my soul.
Taking my year-long sabbatical from social networking a step farther into getting offline completely. However, given how therapeutic and helpful for my writing it's been to shout from the digital rafters, that seems "un-possible."

I have to make a decision by March 26th, a date that's bearing down on my wife much harder than me (more on that in a bit ... scratch that, probably just links when she's ready to make her big reveal).

What's funniest is that this happens less than a year after I finally completely relented to "blogging engines." I'd done (literally) more than a thousand posts at MySpace and still considered myself keeping the torch burning since I was maintaining my Soapbox by hand, the way spirit intended you to. I created a client site which had Blogger integrated and was like, "oh, that's not so hard" and now I'm screwed. Stupid trusting Google to not change up the game!

Playing (Music): "The Great Divide" by Vertical Horizon

Commentary Track for The Buy Pile from February 17, 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 23:32:00 +0000

First, some adminstrivia: these commentary tracks could hit a snag when Blogger goes dark on FTP (more on that shortly). I'll see what I can do. There's several possibilities, and I'm working on a blog about that, so I wanna stay on topic here.

Doomwar feels like the vindication of Christopher Priest's run, as it does similar things as the two "Enemy of the State" storylines (in my mind).

As somebody who remembers Bob Layton's Hercules series with great fondness (Recorder was the man!), the idea of a Marvel universe without the brash son of Zeus is oddly bittersweet. Wonder Man's still shlepping around and Herc had to pass? Some comics shop pundits noted the circular path of divinities, much like Alan Moore hinted at when the officers of Top 10 investigated the murder of Balder, but I can't imagine a way to bring him back and not have it take away a lot. Maybe the whole "Giffen/DeMatteis League Going To Hell For Tora" tactic. I can't see any other way.

The opening strains of All Hail Megatron were the last time I enjoyed a Transformers comic as much as Last Stand of the Wreckers and that's a good thing. Hopefully, unlike AHM it won't fall apart at the end. Kup's stepping up as a great point of exposition, Springer's an interesting leadership type and the sole human has yet to annoy. Shocker!

Deadpool ... when he's on, he's on. What more needs to be said?

As for Doctor Voodoo, I note that Earth's new main mage has yet to be called in on a really high profile consult, and he didn't make the "main" Avengers team (not publicly, anyway, a team which has zero non-Caucasians as of yet, but the Secret Avengers remain unrevealed), so even though he housed two major threats, I kind of feel like he didn't get an appropriate moment to shine. Also, that coloring and muddy ink work didn't help. Que sera sera.

If comics cost less, many, many books would have been contenders. I'm looking at you Incorruptible, G.I. Joe Cobra 2, Dark Avengers and ... heck, all of the honorable mentions. They're all good issues, just not good enough to justify the cover price.

Magog going "meh" was a surprise, but it just kind of Rashomon-ed stuff I'd already seen. Power Girl could probably reach just a little farther and make "Honorable Mention" status.

The bad ... you know what? No need to give it more light. I'm sleepy.

More news as it develops ...

Playing (Music): "Karma Police" by Radiohead

Commentary Track for the Buy Pile, February 11, 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 01:51:00 +0000

Another week, another set of reviews from "the critic comics fans love to hate" (according to Timelord, posting anonymously about me on a message board I've never heard of -- thanks Google Alerts). To be honest, if I knew I could cheese off this many people by getting paid and doing something I love, I'd have started years before I actually did (and now it's been ... spirit, almost seven years of the Buy Pile come next month).

In any case, this week ...

* Yes, I'll be glad when "Blackest Night"/"Brightest Day"/"Mauvest Afternoon" are all over because it'll let nice, weird books like Secret Six and R.E.B.E.L.S. get back to the depraved, sick things they do best. I'm not quite to the point where a Deadshot/Vril Dox team up book would get me to buy it sight unseen, but I'm not far from it either. Some of the best characterization around some of the worst people you'd ever wanna avoid on a dark street. In my meanest dreams, I want Amadeus Cho to grow up and be like Vril Dox (but more on young mister Cho in a bit).

I should really note that the cover for Phonogram: The Singles Club #7 shown in this week's reviews is not what was available at retail, and that the cover I bought is so, so much better. The same was true of issue #6 ... lemme see if I can find what I bought ... here we go. Shame I didn't find that last night while I was working on the reviews. Que sera sera.

There are so many stories I could write in the Phonogram universe. I have a third of an idea about a story about an American phonomancer (who's very, very different from anything David Kohl would have ever seen) that could set the world on fire, and Kohl would be forced to deal with him (and that's not always what you think). Maybe that's too superheroish. Anyway, it rattles around in my head every time I see Jamie McKelvie's perfect artwork (I would literally sacrifice puppies to Cthulhu to get him to work with me on a project) and see the all-too-clever riffs of Kieron Gillen's scripts.

What else? Hm ... I'm watching Human Target on TV and loving Mark Valley's deadpan take on, well, everything. If the comic could capture that and match the content density at a decent price point, they'd have something. Queen and Country used to feel like that, but smarter, less popcorn.

Here's a short story about Nate Grey: no.

Colt Noble and the Megalords was a web comic? Overpriced but funny, I could see signing on for an ongoing at a lower price point.

Explanation of "TV good" re: "Ultimate Comics Armor Wars." It was good enough to watch on TV ... for free. Paying money for it? Maybe not.

Coincidentally, I'm super excited about The Prince of Power featuring Amadeus Cho. An Asian male lead with no kung fu, just brains. I love it.

See you in the funny papers, kids, gotta run.

Playing (Music): "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" from the first volume of the Glee soundtrack

The One About Abortion

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 21:00:00 +0000

When I was sixteen or seventeen, I was part of a group called Junior State of America. We held little debates at school, we traveled to a convention, lots of kids got drunk and felt up and danced to terrible music. It was a hoot.

During said convention, I was asked to take place in a number of debates, some scheduled (I prepared for my strict constructionist constitutional debate for three weeks) and some were discussions where ad hoc statements of support for one position or another. After obliterating the diminutive Indian student in the constitutional thing (he was actually tough, though, but I got under his skin, funny story, ask me some day), I saw everybody and their mom rushing for this huge ball room in a larger section of the hotel holding the conference, so I followed the pack squeezed my way in.

Inside were probably three hundred teenagers. At the front of the room was a raised dais, with two long tables draped with white cloth, each having five seats separated by a mic-wielding podium between them. The debate taking place was one about abortion, and it'd just started moments before I got there. Notepad in hand, I listened and jotted down notes, cautiously working my way near the line for people to speak after the main debaters got done. I should note now that this is all the preparation I had, as I'd not thought about the topic beforehand.

To be fair, the pro-lifers were kicking a lot of behind in the debate, looking to be probably four points ahead on most scorecards. Weaving biblical references with biographical tidbits about founding fathers, they presented a much better show and story than their opponents, three girls and two guys, all of whom looked shaken like they'd eaten some bad shellfish. After the main arguments and rebuttals were presented, I was called up as the first audience speaker.

I stood behind the podium, my lips near the mic, wearing a baseball cap tilted to a 45 degree angle off my forehead, a bolo tie, a gray cardigan sweater and gray cargo pants (What do you want, it was 1990, Chubb Rock was jumping on the scene?). I held my words for a moment, letting the tension build in the room as people murmured, all eyes on this weird Black teenager on stage, before I finally spoke.
"It is my studied opinion that the government should keep its damned hands off of women's bodies," I said simply. Letting it hang, I was only slightly surprised when the cheers and clapping and standing and what not began. I wasn't able to continue for probably fifty seconds as people yelled back and forth and the applause finally died down.

"I am not a woman," I continued. "I would hope this comes as no surprise to any of you." (I glanced at a girl who was standing in the back of the room. I'd made out with her at the dance the night before and she giggled at my regard, her hands flying up to cover her mouth) "I don't know much more than the basics any teenaged boy would know about a woman's body, but I am absolutely certain that I don't want any woman making decisions for things that happen to my body. Therefore, with all due respect to the distinguished panelists here ..." (there I gestured to the pro-lifers, all but one of whom were male) "neither I nor any of these guys deserve any opinion in this discussion."

More standing, more applause, blood everywhere. The pro-choice team looked relieved, I actually heard one whisper "thank you."

"So let's start with that," I said. "I'm all in favor of considered and contemplative debate. I believe this is an important issue and respect that many people have strong feelings about it. However, in the same way none of us can vote due to disqualifications of age, I believe that nobody with my gender assignment gets to weigh in on this topic. Unlike voting, I will never grow the requisite experience to have a say here, and neither will most of these guys ..." Again I gestured to the pro-lifers, and the laughs from the crowd were loud and lengthy.

"Now, once we have the people who will be actually affected by the outcome of this discussion as the sole participants, maybe they can come up with something reasonable. My mother always tells me girls are smarter anyway. But for me, or most of the presenters to my right, or most elected officials, or most members of the Supreme Court, to have the unmitigated gall to even believe they deserve to debate this ... well, I don't know about you, ladies, but I find that pretty damned insulting. So, to that end, I'll yield the rest of my time, and hope only people who deserve to discuss this can find their voice. Thank you."

I walked off the stage to thunderous applause. The stairs were rushed by dozens -- mostly girls (yes, I planned a lot of this as I was approaching the stage) -- as the moderator (another guy) struggled to retain control. To be honest, I didn't even stay for the rest of the debate. I left with a group of people -- six girls (including the one from the night before), a guy I knew who came with my team and another guy we met who we thought was cool -- and we all went to get something to eat together and discuss politics and policy.

I was told the original debaters got closing statements. When I read the report on who won what the next day, pro-life went down by a margin of two points.

In my mind, all was as it should be.

So, in case you're asking, here's my position on abortion: women should be able to do whatever the heck they want. Anything I might believe they should or should not do, anything I feel about when life begins, anything I think about what is or isn't murder ... sophistry. None of that matters. It's a woman's body. It's a woman's decision. End of argument.

As with all things, your mileage may vary.

Playing (Music): "La Vie Boheme" from Rent

Commentary Track for the Buy Pile, February 4th, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 21:42:00 +0000

Let's do this week's second look at my reviews quickly, in that I haven't had lunch and I also need to drop the kids off at the pool. TMI? Sorry, I'm sleepy, filters may be clogged with confusion ...

Anyhoo, I love Dingo. I love, love, love this story. Ever since I read the whole thing as prose (which I recommend) and I can't believe how effective the adaptation is, even while it cuts corners in presenting the stuff. The novel's writer Michael Alan Nelson's doing the comic and he's doing good stuff. Very happy with that.

A guy on Twitter once promised me he'd break down how badly The Great Ten mangles what being in China is actually like ... but I've never seen it. The book reads well and I've enjoyed literally every page of it, and the structure Tony Bedard has laid out is simply flawless.

I will say -- and I do this with great trepidation as not only do I vastly like and admire Dwayne McDuffie, he's also considerably larger than I am -- that I wanted more from Milestone Forever. There's two scenes of just people standing and looking with name captions nearby. That made me a little sad. What happened with Holocaust makes zero sense to me, based on some displays of power I've seen him run. Unless Wise Son has a Lucas Bishop thing going on, I just don't get it, and even then, there's the Flash Rule of Protection from Your Own Powers to consider ... ah, I've said too much. Still, I'd pay six bucks to spend time in Dakota that way, even with those disappointments, and that's a sad statement of how emotionally invested I got with those characters.

Now for some events comics stuff. HOW MESSED UP WAS THAT PAGE WITH THE SENTRY? Siege #2 was wild, as spectacle if not as story. However, I believe Norman Osborn's not too well versed in myth, because gods rarely really die, and their nature is cyclical. So the idea that he can just take on some of the things he has afoot ... it's masochism at a scary level. It was nice to see Bob step up, finally, and not whine his way through something. Ever since that run in with the Molecule Man in Dark Avengers, he's been slowly getting more impressive.

I feel I do a disservice to books like Jonah Hex and Scalped because I am just not the right reader for the material. I can recognize that those were two of the best comics printed this week, based on scientific applications of craft and what not, but I just didn't like them. Like a beautiful person you're not attracted to, there's no accounting for taste. To an extent I feel this way about Criminal (and it's not even due to finding out that Ed Brubaker had a message board beef with me some years ago that only Google Alerts revealed to me -- which is ironic if you read another recent blog of mine, but I digress), but sometimes that noir'll do it for me if it really pushes the envelope.

Nova ... you were doing so well. Your own take on the GL Corps, your new recruit mechanism, it was cute. What's with the time travel? Dude! Dude!

That'll do, y'all. That'll do.

Playing (Music): "Never Get Enough" by Raul Midon

These Aren't The Droids You're Looking For: Cloud Computing is Bad Weather

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 07:00:00 +0000

Let's start out with a simple, yet largely unpublicized thesis: cloud computing is bad.

Many people, even many powerful and profitable businesses would love you to believe otherwise. They assure you their shiny, distant machines can be trusted.

" ...one of us, one of us ..."

From security failures with Google Docs to Paris Hilton's hacked Sidekick (as the biggest of many Sidekick-related tragedies, without even looking at the Blackberry problems), there's ample evidence that cloud computing is "chock full of fail."

The idea seems so idyllic. Create and store your data -- documents, music, whatever -- and store it "in the cloud," on distant servers you don't own and don't control, accessing your material via the internet. The problem is that, like, say, communism, it only works in an idealized state. When real life and real people are involved ... preposterous.

Why? Well, let's look at a number of elements ...

- I CAN'T GET ONLINE: You and your co-workers have a presentation to do on Monday morning. All week you worked on it, collaborating with Google Wave and posting the results on Google Docs. You're feeling confident about your work, and on Sunday night you're gonna fulfill your responsibility to download the file so it can be prepped for a laptop and tested on a projector, since you're first up at the meeting first thing the next day. But you live in Los Angeles, and the rains were heavy as hell and knocked down a tree, which snapped wires that fed your DSL connection (true story, happened to me). You're not getting online tonight, and you can't just drive out to a cyber cafe or something because, oh, your husband is sick and can't be left alone. You are, as they say, screwed.

"... and that's how I got fired ..."

- I CAN'T TRUST YOU: Let's say your phone is, oh, I dunno, a Verizon Droid. You enter your contact information into the device, or maybe you sync it up via Gmail. That means your contacts are on a computer somewhere, available to anybody smart enough to hack into 'em. Why do you care? Well, let's say you work for, oh, I dunno, a design firm that manages the website for a defense contractor, and you talk to lots of department heads to get sign off (true story, happened to someone I worked for). Suddenly, all your contacts -- name, your notes about them, job titles, et cetera -- are a national security risk. Good job, you just encouraged Al Qaeda! You are, not to put too fine a point on it, caught out there.

- I CAN'T KEEP WHAT I PAID FOR: Let's say you own an e-reader like, let's just say an Amazon Kindle. You buy a book that you love and bought wholly legally. One day, you go look to read your book to go do a report on it and whammo, your content got remotely redacted, player! As David Pogue at the New York Times explains: "apparently the publisher changed its mind about offering an electronic edition, and apparently Amazon, whose business lives and dies by publisher happiness, caved. It electronically deleted all books by this author from people’s Kindles and credited their accounts for the price." When you spent your money, you didn't buy the book, you licensed it, and that license can be revoked with or without your approval or knowledge. You are, just for kicks, anally raped.

"There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized."

Some say that moving some content (entertainment based) to float in the ethereal nothingness is a fix for a season of The Office hogging up 20GB of hard drive space, and that "most average consumers are not going to ... buy terabyte external hard drives" to keep their purchases. Really? So, if I wanna keep the stuff I buy at the store, I'm not just gonna find a place for it at home, I'd expect the store to keep giving it to me when I want it? That kind of westernized laziness saddens me deep in my soul parts.

Me? I can't buy it -- literally. For years, I was elated with my Treo 680, which allowed me seamless integration of notes and contacts with my Mac, let me do web browsing and word processing, had basics like cut and paste, but most importantly let me manage my own security. Aside from the unavoidables of SMS and voice call records, I decided what went out and what stayed. Then, on one horrible December night before the birth of my latest daughter, my Treo 680 leapt to its death out of the camera bag I use as a "utility belt" and down the cold, cruel hard wood steps of my apartment's atrium. I was crestfallen at best.

Luckily, my research had already led me to what I believe is the best phone on the market, and as soon as my financial situation slows down a little, it will be mine. Not for the technologically faint of heart, the Nokia N900 once again keeps all the data local (being largely plan agnostic helps with that) while bringing me new 3G speeds, 48GB of hard drive space (I'm happy to keep my own files, thank you very much), Linux OS capable of installing OpenOffice and a video player that handles multiple formats natively, plus oodles of other bells and whistles. I tingle just writing about it.

Let me be clear that I'm not an anti-Google person (even though I am a pro-Apple person and recognize the antagonism between the companies as Nexus One moves to compete with the iPhone). I use Google Reader every day (as is shown in the right nav here). On an everyday basis, I would not search with any other engine (sorry, Icerocket, although I do go to Ask.com for specific things I can phrase properly). Also, as you see, I not only criticize Google's cloud aspirations, but Amazon and other companies -- and if you ask me about the iPad, I'd have similar concerns about not being able to control my own machine. Google just happens to be the public's vision of a leader in the drive for cloud computing, and I feel they're going in the wrong way (even if I understand their reasons). I have to paint them all with the same brush.

When I see "a bare knuckled bucket of 'does'" ads for the Droid, I think about what it can't do -- be free from the tentacles of the cloud (and yes, that's a weird mental image, but factual). I look at the G1 or the Nexus One (and how screwy is that thing, huh?) and I shudder. Avago Technologies chief information officer Bob Rudy told the San Francisco Chronicle that "The days of owning software are coming to an end." I don't think he, or anybody else, has the right to tell me what kinds of products I can't own (unless the products are people, because that's clearly not cool) especially based on decades of consumption. I'd no more trust a Photoshop in the clouds than I'd trust public transportation to get me to work.

Which, essentially, is what's likely to happen. Those that have to will live in the cloud, because doing it my way, the safe way ("the safe way is the slow way, Muadib") is both challenging (maintaining your own security, hard for a culture weaned from personal responsibility) and expensive (the phone I want has an MSRP of -- brace yourself -- $650 with zero carrier subsidy). The continued tiering of society in a "post-racial" world. Good luck with that.

Playing (Music): "Thank You" by Lupe Fiasco off of his Enemy of the State mixtape

UPDATE: Mere hours after this blog got updated, Nokia announced that they'll be shipping Maemo 6-based smartphones in the second half of 2010. Yes, the $650 phone I want is a Maemo 5 phone. I can't wait like Nu Shooz.

UPDATE 2/5/10: Google strikes back ... *sigh*

Commentary Track for The Buy Pile, January 27th 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 00:15:00 +0000

This week's reviews were kind of like wading through hip deep mud, but it's better than actually wading through hip deep mud for reasons of cleanliness and coolness. Plus, a bad day reading comics is better than a good day doing real work, or so I've always believed.

So there was a handbook style issue this week, and people always ask me,"why do you buy all of these things?" I had to let somebody know once: buying handbooks is like buying the right to be right. When somebody says, "I know for a fact that D-Man guest starred in issue seven of Invincible Iron Man," or if they posit, "Well, everybody remembers how Spidey had sex with that chicken after he switched sides in 'Civil War,'" there's two ways you can shut them up. Have the actual issue or have a guidebook that tells them otherwise. It's an argument stopper, it's like having the old Encyclopaedia Britannica on the shelf and going to it every time there's an argument about aardvarks (and really, how many of us haven't had an argument about aardvarks?) -- well worth the money. The mix of issues was weird this time -- leading with modern SHIELD-era stuff for Tony Stark and then stepping back in time for Rhodey's first weird War Machine run (which was similar tonally to the start of this incarnation) -- but it had its benefits. I was shocked with how little of the real character and flavor of Fraction's run translated in this cut and dry presentation when so much of, say, the Clone Saga's idiocy came shining through.

In any case, there's that. Also, Kurt Busiek and Brent Anderson's immersive Astro City experience is worth the ride, almost every time, even when it isn't. Yes, that didn't make sense. I have a newborn at home, shut up.

Lessee, event comics ... I still can't believe how badly things are going if the last issue of Captain America: Reborn hits stands after Steve Rogers has been shlepping around the 616 for a few issues, with Bucky still looking moon-eyed at his side. The "Avengers Reassembled" shtick (bring back Cap, rebuild Tony as a hero, bring back Thor from his exile) is superbly transparent in the face of Norman Osborn's much more interesting machinations (his flaws make "Dark Reign" work as well as it does, although when they get predictable it's easy to take a pass) but that's just the way it is like Bruce Hornsby was on deck.

Back when I was on Twitter (oh, you didn't know about my yearlong sabbatical from social networking spanning my 37th and 38th birthdays?), there was this one guy who would at-sign me the angriest, wildest stuff after my reviews hit, especially in regards to anything Green Lantern or "Blackest Night" related. I found it hilarious -- he didn't follow me, didn't wanna engage in dialogue, he just wanted to curse at me. As previously noted, that's just fine with me -- hate mail is awesome. Any passionate response to my work is fine, because there's such a thin line between love and hate (apologies to The Persuaders) -- indifference is what I hate to see.

So when I got Green Lantern #50 in my hands, I could just imagine veins throbbing on foreheads and frustrated grappling. It amused me a little, because given the tools at hand, it's hard to make a "Blackest Night" story I'd like. Me, I appreciate the more mature perspective of another, older comics writer, who emailed me once saying that he wished I liked some of his work more but he appreciated the directness of my opinions. It was nice because he appreciated that they are opinions. I can't guarantee that anything I write will help or hurt anybody's sales. I certainly don't know anybody personally to the point where I'd have that much of a vendetta against them (well, nobody in comics anyway). I may toss a lob towards the rowdier sections of the peanut gallery if I'm already deep in the "this won't work" grass, but that's largely for kicks. If there's anything the internet loves, it's hyperbole. Maybe even Hyperbole and a Half.

So that was the big event comics this week, what else happened? Oh, despite the fact that I'm most likely to run him over with a car (mostly kidding, that's actually Brandon Jerwa), John Layman's writing some interesting stuff in Chew that has a lot of fans talking. It's always close to the mark, and when it makes it, it's really a delight.

I was happy to see Prometheus back as the galaxy-class bad guy I respected when he whispered, "... here comes justice!" There's still something critically wrong with Justice League Elite, er, Justice League: Cry for Justice that never connects. It's partially Congorilla, admittedly, but Hal's self righteousness doesn't help. Prometheus took a lot longer to improvise when his Wikipedia stylings failed him than I expected, but his overall plan made it kind of all right. The fight scenes looked so stiff, though, and his actual plot was like an old 1980s Dr. Doom scheme -- even Doom's gotten smarter after all these years. Just saying ...

Another thing ... ooh, what's that shiny, gotta go ...

Watching (Hulu): White Collar "Bad Judgement"

Commentary Track for the January 20th, 2009 Buy Pile

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 00:31:00 +0000

There were a number of challenges with this week's column due to a variety of influences. It was my 37th birthday on Wednesday, and my normal inclination for my birthday is to stay in bed the entire day. That was unlikely, given that I drove my stepdaughter to and (if memory serves) from school and also had some interesting times with our new daughter Ella, who doesn't exactly sleep during what mortals call "night time." So, sleep deprivation, up front.

Then, I made the announcement that I was retiring, Jay-Z/Jordan style, from social networking for 365 days as of Wednesday, also. Given that, in many ways, I practically lived online, that was an amazing challenge to even consider, much less engineer. So there's all that.

Up until the last moment, I wasn't even sure I was gonna go buy comics. The comic store was, luckily but challengingly, not in my bed. It was also cold and nasty out. I may have been drunk. It's hard to remember. But, there were no fewer than three Buy Pile regulars, so out I went.

I really like the working class grit of Gravel and when Warren Ellis feels like it, he can turn out one hell of a procedural. Toss into that his avowed and easily provable love for all things British and a dash of magic and murder, well, that's just good. I do wanna see more of the verve and sass that made the founding members of his Minor Seven, as the two that appeared here didn't do much, but otherwise I love the idea of "the king of all magic" being a kind of foot soldier who simply put one spell in front of another (yes, I'm wearing that metaphor out) until it all worked out. That's something I can relate to.

This crossover in Incredible Hercules is taking a little bit of time to get there. I said it. I love the interplay between Herc and the always entertaining Amadeus Cho (possibly even more as a hapless hero than as a nascent villain) and adding Athena and even a prepubescent Zeus to the mix was surprisingly effective. The creative tension there -- Amadeus' flustered charm, Hercules grinning certainty, the planning skills of Athena and Zeus' incredulity at it all ... that's good stuff. Really, though, the pacing could pick it up just a step.

Speaking of great ideas, Warren Ellis is chock full of them. Interdimensional flying vikings. Teleporting super powered busy female spy. How could you not love that? Ditto for Fables, which was good but likely also a little slow.

But to the meat of the matter -- no read pile? No bile and vitriol for anything, not even Transformers: Bumblebee or Phantom Stranger? No grudging nods for Incorruptible or Doctor Voodoo? Nah. Too much work, especially for my birthday. Easy to get back on the horse next week.

But yeah, that social networking thing? Crazy. Two days out, I already feel the pangs of it. In the elevator at work, I didn't reflexively click to Twitter on my phone. I turned off SMS updates from everybody -- no Tweets, no MySpace messages, nada. My phone has been eerily silent.

I'm not sure I dislike it.

But anyway, kind of introspective this week. I didn't get forty mil like Conan, but I'm okay, a year older and hopefully getting a little smarter as I go.

Playing (Music): "All The Above" by Maino feat. T-Pain

Commentary Track for the Buy Pile, January 14, 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 02:32:00 +0000

The fact I was able to get through this week's reviews is something of a miracle, in that our beloved new daughter isn't letting anybody get much sleep. If I were around the house, I could easily sleep in the day with her, but that's when baba has to go out and make the money, so my shoulders hurt and so on.

However, if you're reading this blog, you probably don't care. You're in it for the comics. So let's get to that.

Somewhere I'm sure Christopher Priest is chuckling, as Jonathan Maberry's Black Panther is almost as political as the aforementioned Priest's, but in a more simplistic way and without the snark and caustic humor that made Priest such a critic's favorite and kryptonite for the "common" fan. Eschewing the idea of a "perspective" character (as they've morphed Everett K. Ross into more of a spook than a wonk the few times we see him), this is more of an action movie than the political thriller of Priest's day. Which isn't to say Maberry doesn't have his smarter edges -- I've said a lot of times that if the two Wakandan commentators could get a regular spot on Marvel.com, I'd read their takes on the 616 any day. But when you see the difference with Maberry's Hydro-man and the indistinct artwork on the Broker ... well, it's good, but it can make one nostalgic.

I am very pleased that both Marvel and DC are "chunking" their space-based characters and playing them off each other with personalities instead of powers, as it makes even the "read" weeks smarter. We can all use a little more "smart" in our lives. Vril Dox is once again the mickey fickey man, and any "non-powered" guy than can move Kanjar Ro and Despero around like chess pieces (remember, both of these guys have taken on the entire Trinity-powered JLA) he's doing a lot right.

When I read Tobey Maguire was out of the Spider-Man movie franchise, I thought, "maybe finally Spidey can be funny." Without fairly regular doses of his humor, I find the wall-crawler a drab character. I figure the percentage should be 75 percent laughs and 25 percent pathos. That sounds about right. This week's Amazing Spider-Man #617 got that right while making the original Rhino a man worth knowing. A great surprise.

Until the very last moment, S.W.O.R.D. #3 was on the Buy Pile. But times is hard, y'all, so choices had to be made and I needed to bring it in under a dub. However, if Mark Waid (that guy's busy these days) can keep fleshing out characters in Cyberforce/Hunter Killer while keeping the plots as interesting as that, he could have a Buy Pile contender on his hands. He keeps swinging and bunting on Strange, which is more cutesy than impressive (part of that may be the art and the coloring honestly) but the man's been proven to be super talented, so he's always worth a look if nothing else.

I'm too sleepy to go into my hatred for Galactica 1980 or my sadness at the ongoing Transformers series, but they're there. Just because I don't curse people out doesn't mean things don't suck.

Finally, sorry to everybody who's been sending email to my CBR account -- I again forgot it existed since ... something like November 16th. All relevant emails will be responded to.

All right, good luck with all that, I've gotta try and squeeze some productive time in this evening. Also, next Wednesday is my birthday, so no idea if I'll do reviews or not.

Playing (Music): "Think of Me" by Lloyd off his hot Young Goldie EP

The Lost Buy Pile for December 30th, 2009 (Uncensored)

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 07:32:00 +0000

NOTE: It's not a big deal that CBR chose not to run my last Buy Pile column of 2009. I can count the weeks I've missed on two hands over the six plus years I've been doing this, so I was kind of peeved not to see it, but it's not like I was curing cancer or anything. Anyway, here it is, uncensored, in all its glory, CBR font tags left in because I'm too busy to fix it.

FRONT PAGE BLURB (yes, I write these as well)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, as the year ends with proof that Namor needs to flap his ankle wings, some of the year's worst comics and trying to brighten up Blackest Night. Happy New Year to you too, pal ...

THE COLUMN

WHAT IS THE BUY PILE?

Every week Hannibal Tabu (journalist/blogger/novelist/poet/karaoke host/jackass on Twitter) goes to a comic book store called Comics Ink in Culver City, CA (Overland and Braddock -- hey Steve, Jason, Vince and Quislet) and grabs a whole lotta comics. These periodicals are quickly sorted (how?) into two piles -- the "buy" pile (a small pile most weeks, comprised of planned purchases) and the "read" pile (often huge, often including comics that are really crappy but have some value to stay abreast of). Thursday afternoons you'll be able to get his thoughts (and they're just the opinions of one guy, so calm down) about all of that ... which goes something like this ...

NOTE: There was only one new comic book sold in US comics shops this week due to reasons both complicated and stupid. Let's never speak of them again. So here's that ... and a few surprises ...

THE BUY PILE FOR DECEMBER 30TH, 2009

Blackest Night #6 (DC Comics)

Jump from the Read Pile. The only book sold on the last week of 2009 ... and it stinks. What's weird is that it doesn't stink in the big, showy way that the previous issue did. No, it goes about it in a workmanlike fashion, dutifully doing ridiculous things and pacing them through the narrative as though they shouldn't be the root cause for relentless mockery.

Why? Okay, let's get into that. First of all, Barry Allen grabs Hal Jordan's green power ring-created chain and runs fast enough to travel "two seconds into the future" to make the Black Lantern rings seeking their resurrected flesh. Wait, what? So ... the "emotional reaction" to Blackest Night Batman ... can be outrun? "As long as we don't jump out of our boots again," Allen said, "the rings won't have anything to grab onto" (no, that's not a word, let's not even get into that, the editors are overworked for the love of pie).

Then there's the weird technology side. A Black Lantern treated being possessed by Boston Brand like he was a digital virus and ejected him. Ganthet made some weird notation and alleged that all the rings are "all based on Oan technology" and "contain the same safeguard." Really? So when the Weaponers of the anti-matter world of Qward made those babies, they followed specs from Oa? Given that the Weaponers hated Oa and GLs in particular? Lemme see, I hate cars, lemme make this metal vehicle with four wheels in a rectangular pattern and send it out to battle them. Really? Wow.

Add in the stunt casting (more fantasy ball versions of "who gets a ring?"), another "color change" that was all too easy and a weird cover gallery of what look like "undead" issues of cancelled series, brought back to feed the crossover ... ugh. It's just distasteful, and ends the year on a bad note.

Wait, the book stinks ... why buy it? Well, it was (again) the only book on sale this week, and supporting your local comics shop is important. There's also ... well, we're getting ahead of ourselves. We'll discuss the other motives for wanting to be in the shop (and therefore supporting it) momentarily ...

WHAT'S THE PROGNOSIS

There were two freebies from the Mouse House of Ideas, "Origins of Siege" (which really has Norman Osborn playing out of his depth alongside some cute one page origin stories which simplify a great deal) and Marvel's 2010 calendar, with ads for a clearly reassembled Avengers (classic style), "Fall of the Hulks" and so on, but without art credits on the pin ups. Meh.

So ... four dollar stinker, meh freebies ... the end of 2009 is as bad as the Buy Pile's trusty smartphone falling down the stairs on the way in and breaking irrevocably. *sigh*

WINNERS AND LOSERS

Ah, here's where it gets interesting.

If you've kept up with the commentary tracks for this column (running over at The Hundred and Four, you'd know about the showdown between a school teacher and a lawyer over whether or not Namor needs to flap the wings on his ankles to fly.

First, back it up. Early in 2009, in a store full of customers on a Wednesday, The Counselor brought up the idea that Namor needed to flap the aforementioned ankle wings to fly. This was widely mocked and laughed at, especially given that The Counselor (a successful divorce lawyer) had apparently gotten housed on a Legion of Super-Heroes related discussion involving Quislet some time before. This time, however, he was determined. Week after week he came back, quoting some obscure panel ("Daredevil" this, Matt Cherniss' mini series that) and was rebuffed, ultimately given the word from another Comics Ink employee (Vince Moore of Comics Waiting Room fame) that a John Byrne panel proved Namor was just a crazy man in panties and could fly any darned well time he felt like it, flapping or no flapping.

However, Vince turned out to be the Kato Kaelin of this case, because further examination of the entirety of Byrne's Namor run (and that takes either dedication or insanity) proved that Vince had misread and misquoted and has since been shunned and mocked like the guy two guys back who climbed off of Madonna. The Counselor was given a new trial before an appellate court (presided over by this columnist with a jury of whoever comes in the shop for this madness) but had to present his case on a Wednesday before the end of 2009.

So ... well, it all went down today and it was big. Wrestlemania big. The Counselor stood with a stack of evidentiary exhibits, an eight page brief on his case and a fresh suit. The defense, a degenerate in deadbeat's clothes, simply flustered and tried to get his leather vest not to chafe. It was crazy. The whole PDF may go online, depending on how some emails might go. Keep watching that blog for updates (and videos, if we can get them off of Facebook). It's hard to try to encapsulate being there for such a show of comics scholarship (one of the finest examples this reviewer has ever seen that didn't involve the named Waid or Busiek), fanwankery (as he doesn't get paid for this) or sheer awesomeness (the wonderful juxtaposition of the two). Simply an outstanding moment to love comics and more than makes up for ... well, "Blackest Night" #6.

That's winners. Losers? Well, let's look at some of the worst comic books of 2009 ...

- "Ambush Bug Year None" #7, which actually seemed to hate the fans more than the last issue of "Wanted."

- "Captain America: Reborn" #4, with the Red Skull ... look, we can't even talk about it in detail because Cap's running around and the last issue of this mini still hides in the Mouse House of Ideas.

- "Adventure Comics" #5, which literally took Superboy Prime into the offices of DC Comics in a move so goofily meta that it made "Ex Machina" look like Tolstoy.

- "Fantastic Four" #567, with the dream sequence and the "Marquis of Death" and really, what's up with this run being so terrible, since "Nightly News" alone proved Jonathan Hickman's a freaking genius?

There were lots of bad comics -- "Nomad: Girl Without a World" leaps to mind, or maybe "Titans" as examples of books that hate America and hate puppies -- but these four were so abysmal that even cursory glances over the reviews in question could cause nausea.

So there's that. Happy new year, pal.

THE BUSINESS

Got a comic you think should be reviewed in The Buy Pile? If we get a PDF of a fairly normal length comic (i.e. "less than 64 pages") by no later than 24 hours before the actual issue arrives in stores (and sorry, we can only review comics people can go to stores and buy), we guarantee the work will get reviewed, if remembered. Physical comics? Geddouttahere. Too much drama to store with diminishing resources. If you send it in more than two days before comics come out, the possibility of it being forgotten increases exponentially.

There are now two official ways to get Hannibal Tabu's blog-related wisdom. For all personal things, there's Hannibal's relaunched Soapbox and for his views on the weird, wild world there's The Hundred and Four.

Playing (Music): "Hard" by Rihanna feat. Young Jeezy ('cause that Hannibal reign just won't let up)

Failed Comics: Reasons

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 05:26:00 +0000

NOTE: I've been working on the idea of getting some comics done for many, many years. I've never gotten anything done, due to flaky artists, inconsistent publishing companies and not trying hard enough to make comics instead of, say, making money. This is one of my ideas, a short comic that was supposed to be a collaboration with a friend so we could have stuff to show at conventions, written back in early 2005. It may never get done. So be it. I can write stuff, though, and when I don't use it ... it's saddening. Go now, little comics script! Be free! As long as my name's on you!

PAGE ONE: One Panel

PANEL 1 - Opening scene, one panel splash. Perspective shot looking
down on a "bodega" styled corner store, with a square counter on the
lower left of the panel, open front door. Two POLICE OFFICERS are
near the right, one at the door watching the street, one looking at
gum near the counter. SHOPKEEPER stands pleasantly behind the
counter, reading the latest issue of PERSON magazine. It's bright
daylight outside, despite the streets being covered with snow, and
the store is crowded and a little bit dingy.

DIALOGUE:
TITLE: OUT OF CONTEXT: REASONS
TITLE: | WORDS: HANNIBAL TABU | VISUALS: [ARTIST NAME REMOVED TO PROTECT THE PERSON'S IDENTITY] |
CAPTION: (letterer, please place in lower right hand corner)
OUT OF CONTEXT CREATED BY HANNIBAL TABU, "OUT OF CONTEXT: REASONS"
CREATED BY HANNIBAL TABU AND [ARTIST NAME REMOVED TO PROTECT THE PERSON'S IDENTITY]
1 - POLICE OFFICER (nearer): YOU'RE OUTTA THE MIXED FRUIT
CERTS HERE ...

PAGE TWO: Three Panels

PANEL 1 - First of three long horizontal panels. Shows close up on POLICE OFFICER (near)'s hand, holding a pack of DENTYNE gum. He's in soft focus, while down the nearby aisle (there are three aisles in the bodega, leading to the back wall) you should see PRETTY GIRL (our Nicole Wray takeoff) reading the back of a box of POP TARTS with deep concentration while holding the stick of a lolly pop (which is in her mouth). She should be visible in profile, with all her curves visible, and her puffy bomber stopping just short of her waistline.

DIALOGUE:
1 - SHOPKEEPER: (from off panel) SO SORRY, WILL HAVE MORE ON TUESDAY.

PANEL 2 - Flip perspective, close up on PRETTY GIRL's hand, holding POP TARTS, seeing POLICE OFFICER (near) with his mouth hanging open slightly, looking at PRETTY GIRL. You should see the store's window, with "GROCERY/LOTTO" in reverse type in the glass, and large, thug looking BLACK GUYS walking by outside (we'll see them again on page nine) from right to left.

DIALOGUE:
2 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): (from off panel) HEY, DAVE! THEY GOT THOSE ICE GUM THINGS, LIKE ON TV?

PANEL 3 - Flip perspective back, close up on PRETTY GIRL's face, lolly pop pulled half way out of her mouth, with her lips still around the sphere of it, just a hint of her tongue visible on the bottom side. She's smiling a little, a plan glimmering in her droopy-lidded eyes, her gaze locked on POLICE OFFICER (near).

DIALOGUE:
3 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): (from off panel) DAVE?

PAGE THREE: Five Panels

PANEL 1 - Shown from right of POLICE OFFICER (near), PRETTY GIRL has already set down the Pop Tarts and is walking slinkily towards Police officer, swinging one arm and holding lolly pop stick in place with other hand, eyes looking him up and down. The camera angle should still show some of the grocery items on the aisle next to them (on his right and her left).

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 2 - PRETTY GIRL is standing directly in front of POLICE OFFICER (near), head bowed as she looks over her lashes at him coquettishly, while he smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

DIALOGUE:
1 - POLICE OFFICER (near): UH ...

PANEL 3 - Same panel and camera angle, except PRETTY GIRL is now looking over right shoulder of POLICE OFFICER (near) with a wide-eyed look of shock and fear.

DIALOGUE:
2 - POLICE OFFICER (near): MORNING ... WHAT ... WHAT IS IT?

PANEL 4 - POLICE OFFICER (near) turns and looks over his shoulder, doesn't hear soft clicking from direction of PRETTY GIRL.

DIALOGUE:
3 - POLICE OFFICER (near): DID YOU SEE SOMETHING?
EFX (soft): CLICK

PANEL 5 - Same angle from Panels 2 and 3, except now PRETTY GIRL has a Desert Eagle aimed at head of POLICE OFFICER (near). the Desert Eagle is a large freaking pistol, a .50 caliber handgun, and should look really big in her dainty hands, but she has no trepidation nor problem in controlling it.

DIALOGUE:
5 - POLICE OFFICER (near): ...

PAGE 4: One Panel

PANEL 1 - Single page splash, PRETTY GIRL pulls trigger, bullet explodes head of cop. I leave it to your discretion on how graphic to get, or if you wanna do an explosion effect and be subtle with it, as this is pretty much our "money shot" visual page.

DIALOGUE:
EFX: KA-BLAM!

PAGE 5: Five Panels

PANEL 1 - POLICE OFFICER (farther) panics, fumbling for his sidearm, standing just inside doorway. SHOPKEEPER is panicked as well, diving for cover behind the counter (which should be just barely in sight on left side of panel)

DIALOGUE:
1 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): JESUS, DAVE! FREEZE ...

PANEL 2 - Close cropped shot on PRETTY GIRL, drawing a bead on POLICE OFFICER (farther). Her right eye is closed as she aims through the pistol's sight with her left eye, and her tongue is sticking out the left side of her mouth, angling downwards, as she concentrates. You should, at this point, see her leaning slightly to her left (panel right) and be able to see the shoulder holster, one that holds the gun parallel to the ground instead of barrel down, hanging underneath her coat. POLICE OFFICER (near) should still be halfway down in his descent to the floor (which should show that all of this is happening very fast, your call on how much of this to show).

DIALOGUE:
2 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): ... DROP YOUR ...

PANEL 3 - Framed shot of POLICE OFFICER (farther) falling backwards, smashing into shelves on wall, filled with rows of canned vegetables (any generic east coast brand you're familiar with). In this panel, he's been shot at the base of his neck on his left hand side (panel right), with a spurt of blood flying out from the impact.

DIALOGUE:
EFX: KA-BLAM!
3 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): ... WEAP ... AAAAAGH!

PANEL 4 - Same camera angle, less than a second later, lots of cans falling down on POLICE OFFICER (farther), as a second shot blasts a hole into his head, his police cap falling harmlessly off to his right (panel left).

DIALOGUE:
EFX: KA-BLAM!
4 - POLICE OFFICER (farther): ... NO, GAAAAAH!

PANEL 5 - Camera angle switches to floor level, looking from stance of PRETTY GIRL through her knee-high laced boots (kind of like that James Bond poster with the girls legs framing the shot), seeing fallen body of POLICE OFFICER (near) on floor in foreground (two spent bullet casings should be resting on his body) and slumped body of POLICE OFFICER (farther), with grocery displays toppled, cans strewn everywhere, gum and sodas spilled on the floor. Outside the door you can almost make out the bustle of people running in fear from the tumult.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PAGE SIX: Four Panels

PANEL 1 - Profile shot from slightly above and to the right of PRETTY GIRL, now holding her smoking Desert Eagle straight up and glancing to her left (away from the camera) at SHOPKEEPER cowering behind the counter. SHOPKEEPER is looking, wide eyed and shaking, at PRETTY GIRL.

DIALOGUE:
1 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... THE HELL WAS THAT?
2 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... FROM INSIDE THE STORE,
I ...
3 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... MAN, I'M GETTING THE
...

PANEL 2 - Straight on shot of PRETTY GIRL, head down, putting the Desert Eagle back in the holster. It's a shot that shows a lot of the definition of her torso -- taut abs, perky but not large breasts, slightly frayed edge of her tank top cutting off a half inch above her navel. A gold herringbone chain should also be visible, with a charm hanging from it that looks like the scales of a Libra, but with the left side dipping low. The shadow of her lolly pop stick should fall across the higher right side of the charm.

DIALOGUE:
4 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... THINK I HEARD SHOTS ...
5 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... BABY, I'M OKAY, JUST
...

PANEL 3 - Walking slinkily again, switching her hips, PRETTY GIRL is seen from the rear, walking out, now half way between the door and her point of origin. Her right hand holds the lolly pop, the left up in the air, and should be shown as the point of origin for a flung stack of bills, held in a rubber band, flying towards the counter.

DIALOGUE:
6 - PRETTY GIRL: SORRY ABOUT THE MESS.

PANEL 4 - Close up on the counter, with the stack of bills ($100 bills, folded once, wrapped in a wide rubber band) lying on the counter, SHOPKEEPER's bugged eyes just visible over the edge of the counter.

DIALOGUE:
7 - STREET CHATTER: (from off panel) ... THOUGHT I SAW SOME COPS ...

PAGE SEVEN: Six Panels

PANEL 1 - Two bundled people, I don't care what they look like. Close up, looking between their shoulders. One is holding the day's paper, which has a blown up shot of PRETTY GIRL holding the gun and glancing at the shopkeeper, on the front page under a headline that reads DIRTY HARRIET? Photo takes up four columns of the six column spread, and dominates center. Oh, and paper is folded in half. The two people should be talking to one another as they walk along a snowy street, one should be pointing concernedly to the photo while the other watches, frowning.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 2 - Police locker room. Men of every ethnicity standing around in towels, half-in and half-out of uniform, and so on. In front of the locker closest to the reader, there's a bunch of flowers. One tubby Black officer, shaven headed and wearing just a towel and his wedding ring, should be looking at the flowers with dread. He should be standing in the image's foreground.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 3 - Shot of the front of the bodega that started all this mess. SHOPKEEPER is closing up the store for the night, his breath a cloud of frosty air in front of his face, looking nervously over his shoulder as he fumbles with the padlock on the security door (one of those drop down metal numbers). You should just be able to make out a bulge under his coat that could be a gun. Snow is falling gently.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 4 - Same shot, but from above, with a bespectacled old Asian woman looking down through a frosted window at SHOPKEEPER and clutching the chest of her shirt, scared for her own life. One hand, however, is reaching to drop down the curtains so she can shut off the world. The glow of her television behind her can be seen, illuminating the floral prints on her shirt and apron.

DIALOGUE:
CAPTION: ... NO CLOSER TO FINDING THE SHOOTER AFTER TWO DAYS ...

PANEL 5 - Community meeting, featuring brothers in dashikis with dreadlocks huddled together meaningfully, dookie-braided hoodrats trying to get their act together while they set out punch and sandwiches. A banner should hang in the background that should not be wholly visible, but if it were it would say "PEOPLE'S REVOLUTIONARY PARTY." In the foreground of the shot, a brother (who should look a lot like either me or you, I'm not picky) is sitting by himself in a row of folding chairs (there's two rows behind him, and rows ahead of him out of perspective), reading the paper.

DIALOGUE:
1 - BROTHER: (thoughtfully, to himself) HANDLE THAT, SIS ...

PANEL 6 - Grainy television, slanted slightly to the right, away from the reader. On the screen is a "LIVE" news report (pick a channel, I don't care) showing a middle aged guy in a black trench coat and gloves, gesticulating angrily at a listening crowd. The guy's behind a podium, with uniformed police forming a wall behind him. On screen he's identified as Mayor Don Fleet (feel free to base him on your own mayor if need be, or get creative).

DIALOGUE:
CAPTION: "... AND MAYOR FLEET VOWED JUSTICE WILL RETURN TO OUR STREETS ..."

PAGE EIGHT: One Panel

PANEL 1 - Full page splash, huge crowd scene/press conference on courthouse/city council steps (whatever big government building you have with steps, that's what we want), similar to scene on page seven panel one. TV cameras, reporters holding out tape recorders, boom microphones and tons of normal people crushed in, looking for answers. On the steps, there's a podium, behind which MAYOR FLEET speaks to the crowd, into microphones with logos for ABC, CNN, FOX, NBC, CBS. Behind the MAYOR stands POLICE COMMISSIONER (an older, balding black man with a bushy mustache in a suit that fit him two years ago, watching the crowd), POLICE CHIEF (an older white guy, salt and pepper hair, in full uniform and wearing the cap, a grim expression on his hawkish face as he listens attentively) and six FUNCTIONARIES (boring people of whatever ethic mix you like, in suits) looking nervous but vigilant.

DIALOGUE:
1 - MAYOR FLEET: ... WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS KIND OF INJUSTICE IN OUR CITY! WE WILL FIND THE REASONS FOR THIS SENSELESS CRIME!
2 - MAYOR FLEET: CHIEF MCGARRETT HAS EVERY AVAILABLE RESOURCE TASKED TO FINDING THIS DANGEROUS CRIMINAL! WE WILL NOT REST UNTIL ALL CITIZENS ARE SAFE AGAIN!

PAGE NINE: Three Panels

PANEL 1 - Basic walk-up apartment of the type that dominates many east coast cities. In foreground of shot, there's a round table with four THUGS playing dominoes and laughing. Again, I don't have very strong preferences for these guys, but none of 'em should be less than six feet tall or weigh less than 190 lbs. Maybe a hoodie on two of them. THE MAYOR's press conference from the last page is playing on the TV behind the THUG in the back of the panel (henceforth THUG CENTER), and he should be leaned back laughing. Off to the left of the panel, you can see into the kitchen where AUNTIE, an older black woman with an immaculate white afro, an apron and an almost June Cleaver-styled flowered dress and a big beaded necklace like X-Clan used to wear is washing dishes in a sink, with a window right in front of her, looking out of the building. From the angle of sunlight coming in the window, it's mid afternoon. A Glock 40 pistol is clearly visible on the table, to the side of the dominoes.

DIALOGUE:
1 - THUG ON PANEL LEFT: ... BABY GIRL WAS LIKE, "KA-PLOW!" ALL UP IN DUDE'S GRILL!
2 - THUG ON PANEL RIGHT: YEAH YEAH, SHE BROUGHT THE PAIN LIKE METH!

PANEL 2 - Same panel, but with THUG CENTER's head down, still laughing.

DIALOGUE:
3 - AUNTIE: SHAME Y'ALL AIN'T MAN ENOUGH TO DO THE JOB ...
4 - AUNTIE: ... GOT LITTLE SISTERS OUT THERE FIGHTIN' THE REVOLUTION!

PANEL 3 - Same panel, but with each THUG looking at the others like "Aw, man, she's right!"

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PAGE TEN: Two Panels

PANEL 1 - Shot of the front door of the building, with THUGS, now each holding a weapon, barreling down the steps with grim intent.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 2 - Same exact shot, but this time as if it was on the screen of a monitor, slanted to the right and away from the reader.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PAGE ELEVEN: Two Panels

PANEL 1 - Drawing back from last panel, now see that the shot is on a monitor in a bank of them, all sitting on a counter-like console with an array of mysterious buttons and lights and indicators and shit. There's a four inch raised border on the edge of the console. On the right side, you can just barely see the elbow of PRETTY GIRL's jacket, leaned on that raised console edge.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 2 - Pulled back all the way, to see that this is the inside of the bridge on a space ship, with Earth floating serenely in a viewscreen behind and to the right of PRETTY GIRL, who sits in a chair angled slightly towards the reader, her right arm on the console and her left resting daintily on her hip, blowing a bubble of gum. The cabin has tons of wacky instruments and stuff, hanging from ceilings and stuck out of the floor that defy explanation. Another console can be seen in the distance behind her, and the big view screen is over that.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PAGE TWELVE: Seven Panels

PANEL 1 - Long horizontal panel across top of page. Shows PRETTY GIRL, from chest up, straight on, her face illuminated by the display and console, her bubble popped. You can see top of ALIEN'S head as he approaches.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 2 - Long horizontal panel, identical in size to previous one. Behind her now stands an ALIEN (again, your discretion how weird to get, but this is not a bipedal humanoid and should not even have a very recognizable shape), who's looking at the display as well.

DIALOGUE:
1 - ALIEN (in strange typeface): WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THINGS LIKE THAT?

PANEL 3 - One of three identical sized square panels which form a single horizontal row of images. Shows PRETTY GIRL's face turned to look at ALIEN (now off panel, his face as the perspective of the shot), grinning madly.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 4 - Same shot, as transformation from PRETTY GIRL to another ALIEN is half-way complete. It's like a shapeshift, morphing kind of effect. Really kind of nasty. Her clothes and stuff are being absorbed into the new, shapeshifted body.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 4 - Same shot, as PRETTY GIRL is now fully an ALIEN, still "grinning" disturbingly.

DIALOGUE:
NO DIALOGUE

PANEL 6 - Long horizontal panel, same shot as Panel 2, but now they're both ALIENS.

DIALOGUE:
2 - PRETTY GIRL/ALIEN (in strange typeface): I'VE GOTTA DO SOMETHING FOR FUN, DON'T I?

PANEL 7 - Long horizontal panel across bottom of page. All black.

DIALOGUE:
TITLE: END

Watching (Hulu.com): Better Off Ted, "The Great Repression"

Commentary Track for December 31st Buy Pile Reviews (UPDATED WITH VIDEO)

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 08:56:00 +0000

There's actually a lotta discussion and thought that goes into this week's review(s), so there's not much that needs to be said ... but the images are needed.

The management at CBR isn't sure this week's column will be posted as is and on schedule. If you see a link in this paragraph, all was well, and if you see a note with a link, all was wonky. If you see no link, well, the "director's cut" will eventually run here. (NOTE: The column didn't run. I'm gonna invoice 'em for it anyway. Screw that noise ...)

Anyhoo, with the exception of the last image shown here, photos are courtesy of Isaac S. Lew and Jason Thompson (where noted), who hopefully will send over videos that can be added shortly ... (NOTE: Videos came in after press time, but they're included here now, due to sheer awesomeness)

In any case, here's the photos ...

The Counselor, presenting his case

Photo by Isaac S. Lew

About a half dozen people gathered around to hear what he had to say.

The Counselor (known as "Da King" or "Your Majesty" to the newly named Quislet) presents his case

Video by Isaac S. Lew

Another view of "the courtroom"
Photo by Jason D. Thompson

Most were awed by the disturbing volume of his scholarship as well as the relentless clarity of his points. Some just cracked up laughing.

A serious presentation of the facts

Photo by Isaac S. Lew

Take any term paper every written, anywhere. This is more serious than that. It's like some Johnnie Cochrane stuff. The burden of proof was just a start of things, before the real smack down. It was some top rope, elbow-tapping, vengeful god stuff. Also known as "awesome."

The body of evidence

Photo by Isaac S. Lew

Roy Thomas to Matt Cherniss to Stan Lee, covering every era of comics from the Invaders to the Initiative. Wow.

He said he was scanning and blowing up images in preparation for this at home, and his wife got all Seth Meyers on him and was like, "Really?" It'd be worth it to get a photo of that expression.

Presiding over this madness, Hannibal drove rapidly through LA screaming "HERE COMES JUSTICE!"

Photo by Isaac S. Lew

My stepdaughter was warming up for her second Kwanzaa show performance this week, my wife was struggling with some pregnancy related issues (probably some stuff on the Soapbox about that sooner or later). It was hard to be parted from the family to rule on such a goofy matter, but The Counselor made it a show worth seeing.

The man formerly known as Adam K, sometimes known as little girl's names, but henceforth known as QUISLET, admitting his complete loss

Photo by Hannibal Tabu

Part of the final ruling was that Quislet here had to be known as "Quislet" as an ironic bit of comeuppance for his earlier "victory," and has to refer to The Counselor exclusively as "The King" or "Your Majesty" for no fewer than five years. Oh, would you like to see the final judgement? We can do that ... Sandy, can we roll that clip?

His Honor Hannibal Tabu stands ready to render judgement.

Video by Isaac S. Lew

Hopefully some sign of this great achievement will be recorded on the Comics Ink wall, but store owner Steve is more about finance than jurisprudence.

Less a battle and more of a felonious assault, The Counselor was like Thor and Quislet here was like Marvin's cape on the old Superfriends show. Not even close.

Can't get enough? Download the eight page PDF of the brief -- well worth your time.

Playing (Music): "Bedroom Lites" by Idle Warship

Commentary Track for December 24th Buy Pile Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 23:00:00 +0000

Before we get started, I wrote a blog last week about (among other things) my problem about "Blackest Night," and somebody might come looking for it. Lemme look at my noted here ... crap, can't read my own handwriting. Somebody with a ... "tod complex?" "bod complex?" Something like that. Anyway, that's here, so good luck with that.

At the time I'm writing this, I don't have a link, as the column won't post for a few hours (it's 3:58 AM). However, I had to write about something important (well, as comics go) ...

Clash of the Nutjobs

Shown here are "Sally" (the school teacher some know as Adam K. and the comics retail clerk I routinely call little girls names) and a lawyer who'd probably prefer to keep his name out of all of this craziness.

Anyway, the lawyer (let's call him Counselor, for argument's sake) believes that Namor needs to flap those ridiculous little wings on his ankles in order to fly. Most of the people at the shop (and likely the world) believe that's crazy -- Namor flies because he's a flying mutant. He thinks he can fly, therefore he does. Flapping the wings makes no difference.

This argument was allegedly settled early this year when Vince Moore (another retailer at the store and a writer/editor/columnist/man about town) pulled out some John Byrne-penned "proof" that Namor was a delusional nutbag and could fly irrespective of his ankle wings. However, The Counselor's further research found Vince's "proof" to be as factual as Obama's claims that he didn't campaign for a public option and the "verdict" was overturned.

Thanks to a ruling from store owner, Steve LeClaire, the Counselor has until the end of 2009 to present his case to a quorum of comics fans and "authorities" at Comics Ink or he shall forever be shunned and mocked.

Next Wednesday, Diamond Comics and UPS can't get their act together and no comics will ship. Only one new comic book will be on sale in US shops -- some "Blackest Night" book. However, at 5PM, on the corner of Overland and Braddock in Culver City, CA, The Counselor will present his case to either emerge covered in triumphant glory or derision and shame.

Unless a new baby appears sometime around then, I will be there, serving likely as a jurist.

So there's that. Now, commentary about this week's comics:

I was shocked to see Marvel dominate both the "super crappy" and "not so bad" sections simultaneously, which is quite a feat and normally needs event comics to accomplish. I like the work of so many of these writers -- Fear Agent from Remender, Jonathan Hickman's amazing work on The Nightly News, Pax Romana and Transhuman, just for example. But this stuff ... it's really scary how bad it is. That means any good writer can turn in crap. That's frightening. I've gotta work harder at my stuff ...

Also, "Necrosha/Blackest Night?" I need the Armageddon/Deep Impact stuff to not happen, 'kay?

Now, a quick bit on Unknown Soldier. Despite the fact that the writer's dead to me now, the graphic novel was freaking amazing, and really redefined the property. However, sending this property -- which had heavy US ties in its mythos -- to an African country with no clear goals nor direction ... well, that's always been a bit weird to me. The whole reason the graphic novel worked so well was that the Soldier knew who he was and why -- an instrument of policy, a tool to achieve goals. This guy seems to have more of Christopher Chance's malaise (as presented by Peter Milligan) and that's ... hard to catch up with. I'm always interested, because (even though there are zero Black creators on this book -- sigh) Black characters in comics are always going to at least get my eyebrow to raise with interest.

However, on charm, I can't say enough of how much I enjoy reading Amadeus Cho, who's a morally gray character who feels no real desire to choose sides. I can relate to that. Heroism or villainy depend on mood and what's happening that day. His pairing with the "scoundrel" styled charm of Hercules could only be topped by a Layla Miller or Valeria Richards. I really hope to see more of the character as the years go on, maybe even some mentoring from Jimmy Woo.

Now, as I have the day off and would like to actually do some writing for myself for a change (as well as Audio Hijacking all of my favorite songs from The Sing Off), I bid you adieu. I will report back from the Namor showdown next week, and as always keep an eye on The Operative Network for baby news.

Playing (Music): "Popular Demand" by Lupe Fiasco

Commentary Track for The Buy Pile, December 16, 2008 (or "The Great Sadness")

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 01:48:00 +0000

All righty, you know the deal. I do commentary tracks for the latest set of reviews. Some housekeeping before I get to all that ...

- Two weeks from now, only one comic book will be sold in the US, due to Diamond and UPS not being able to get their act together, so they're blowing off the whole week. Which means a lot of comics creators can't make any money that week. What can brown not do for you? *sigh* *facepalm*

- My wife is pregnant, and our baby's due date was last Friday. So I could disappear at any time, and that's why. I'll be back. Don't panic.

Let's get it on.

I'm noticing that I feel like I buy a lot more Marvel books than DC books. I'm going to get into a little of why that is in a bit, but it's one of the first things on my mind this week.

Now, I'm very happy to be enjoying Jonathan Maberry's Black Panther series, and I'm very excited at the big name cast -- old favorites for T'Challa, but rarely all together -- going on here. I do wish that, given Doom's involvement in Siege, that it looked like things will connect more effect across the platform (I doubt it at this point)but the story itself is enjoyable and I swear that if Marvel.com had a weekly column from the two Wakandan pundits, I would read it religiously and set the RSS feed for my aggregator.

It's hard for me with G.I. Joe comics, because so many times I want to buy and love a G.I. Joe comic based on my love for the property and so many of the characters, but the stories sometimes don't stand up. This one may have had some cliched elements, but it was very strong and very smart -- Chuck Dixon knows his stuff. The undercurrent of Cobra being a mystery and sneaky and largely unknown is pretty smart. I don't know how that plays out once there's open combat between the parties, but still it's pretty cool.

We also got (finally) a better look at what the Sentry can actually do and find out why, which is fantastic in that he can really be somebody. His lunacy's a great limiter for his overwhelming power, and now his power makes a kind of sense. I was really tired of the Sentry getting housed by everybody short of Squirrel Girl every other week, so this was a pleasant surprise.

I think I figured out Power Girl's problem, and Vartox almost solved it. Power Girl is somewhat ridiculous. Going with that is a good thing. Standing next to Magog and Jay Garrick, you can play her straight, but by herself she's an almost ludicrous character and that's not a bad thing. Watching her go back and forth with this spaceborne lothario was the most interested I've been with this character in years, but she wasn't exasperated enough and didn't go far enough in her responses to him. Until Ms. Marvel became the ruthless Karla Sofen, I felt kind of the same way. It's hard to make these kind of cookie cutter characters breathe, but I believe it's doable once you find their slant. Ms. Marvel, with a military background, has room to be hard core. Power Girl? She needs to give in to her inner ridiculousness.

Okay, now here's what I've been thinking about most of the week. I've been getting some ... well, frankly misinformed criticisms about me personally and my work in general that I found tiresome. Here's the facts: I have hated almost every bit of the "Blackest Night" crossover so far. My reasons are myriad: if the Green Lantern ring was to be the ultimate weapon in the universe, now saying that there are essentially six more corps of people with similar shticks (acknowledging that the Blue Lanterns have no tactical ability and that the Indigo whatever-they-ares are a tribe that's not that big nor accepting applications) robs that weapon of its specialness and its ability, really. Green Lanterns have pulled planets with their rings (albeit with help sometimes), so if Sinestro Corps members or Red Lanterns (which all seem as numerous as GLs) or Agent Orange can do all that, especially since most of the new corps lack the oversight/backup of their own Guardian equivalents ... that's just kind of lame in my mind. It just is. In one or two books, fine, but this is a line wide crossover, so the lameness has spilled on to books that could have been better (Doom Patrol for example, or even The Outsiders). I don't like that. Also, with the recent dramas of Guy Gardner, even the color "doesn't matter" so much. You're Green today, no, you're red, and he's Blue, no, wait, he's plaid ... ick. It'd even be better if the rings had different effects -- yellow rings induced fear or created frightening things, red ones were exclusively concussive, and so on.

However, some -- in the store, on Twitter, in general life -- believe that I "hate Green Lantern so much" and maybe I've never "given it a positive review." Well, that's the kind of misinformation that tires me out. How about these apples: Green Lantern Corps #6 on November 15, 2006; Green Lantern Corps #8 on January 10, 2007; Green Lantern Corps #9 on Valentine's Day 2007, Green Lantern Sinestro Corps Special #1 on June 27, 2007, Green Lantern #21 on July 11, 2007, Green Lantern #22 on August 8, 2007; Green Lantern Corps #16 and Tales of the Sinestro Corps: Cyborg Superman #1 on October 3, 2007; Green Lantern Corps #17 on October 24, 2007; Green Lantern Corps #18 on November 29, 2007; the extraordinarily mean (in a good way) Green Lantern Corps #27 from August 12, 2008; the extraordinarily creepy Green Lantern Corps #31 from December 10, 2008; Green Lantern Corps #34 on March 11, 2009; Green Lantern Corps #38 on July 1, 2009;Green Lantern #44 on July 22, 2009 (which was actually a "Blackest Night" crossover issue, one of the very few I've found some ability to enjoy); and Green Lantern #46 on October 1, 2009 (loved Sinestro's work here). Those are all fairly good "Honorable Mentions" reviews (I omitted ones that were less forgiving, as there were a couple that weren't as positive), and I just had to do a BBEdit search on my MacBook Pro for them.

Oh, and while we're at it, I bought and enjoyed Green Lantern/Sinestro Corps Secret Files & Origins (I normally don't buy SF&O because they lack detail, but "what it lacks in statistical figures it makes up for in sheer volume of data." Another? On September 10, 2009 I also bought Green Lantern Corps #28, which Neil Tomasi did a great script for. That's two more issues than I've bought many, many other properties.

Here's the thing people don't understand: when I pick up a comic book, I want to like it. I have an honest desire to buy virtually every book I pull off the shelves. My most heartfelt wish is that I'll open whatever's in my hand and it will pull me inside, it will thrill and fascinate and challenge and intrigue and entice me until I can't deny it, go ahead and buy it, take it home and read with glee (yes, I did a Nate Dogg riff there, it was largely accidental ... and no, not Glee on TV because I watch that on Hulu the day after, when it's on). Dude, I freaking love comics and I want them to be good.

Moreover, I love the basic idea of Green Lantern. A wishing ring (as noted by Daniel the Sandman), fueled by will power, that can do virtually anything? Standing as part of a pan-galactic force of peacekeepers with a solemn oath and a legacy spanning millennia? That's freaking awesome! I have at least two Green Lantern shirts, I can still recite the oath from memory from learning it at age 10 (I'll be 37 next month) ... the idea that I hate Green Lantern is insane.

What I hate is the storytelling. I have the same problem with Superman, the same problem with The Sentry, the same problem with The Authority, the same problem with Invincible. Love the property, find the storytelling doesn't cut it, and in the case of Green Lanterns, the story has gotten so big and so fannish and so annoying that it's inspired an all new level of hatred.

One fueled by sadness.

One very personal attack asked if the writer of the comic had stolen my girlfriend. The answer is no. I don't have a personal beef against any single comics writer. I have a lot of beefs with the writing of comics writers, but the people themselves are different. I don't know these people. I've met one or two, but by and large they stay out of South Central Los Angeles and I stay out of wherever the hell they are and we're all apparently fine with that. None of them got picked over me with a comics pitch, none of them kept me from getting work, and short of one Detective Comics backup story I sent to Bob Shreck, I have never sent in a comic book pitch to one of the Big Two. It can't be personal if people don't know each other. Perfect example: many years I was very, very vocal about the work of one writer. He got very upset about it (or so I was told, as I've never spoken live with the man). His friends, other pros got upset, and some even talked to me about it. I never relented. He kept working, and improved his craft. I've since bought his (improved) comics and had good things to say about examples of his work in public and private. He's befriended me on Facebook and I follow him on Twitter. No beef. It's not about the people, it's about the comics, and the juvenile personal insults I've received -- often from people who don't know me, don't know the makers of these works, don't own or receive any financial benefit from these works -- are ... well, kind of sad, too.

So I read Green Lantern and Superman and weird indies I've never heard of before and Transformers and even Captain America because I want to, and I want it to thrill me, even in the face of overwhelming evidence that they won't. I don't think that's so much to ask, especially because sometimes I'm surprised and it's one of the best feelings in the world.

So there's that.

Too much to do, off I go.

Watching (Hulu): The Sing Off

Commentary Track for the Buy Pile from 12/04/09

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 22:53:00 +0000

One more time like Daft Punk was playing ...

I think these need to be quicker. I do like the discipline -- a blog a week -- and it doesn't feel like too much extra work after the column.

What's extra weird? Stayed up late into Thursday morning to get this week's reviews done, only to find out CBR doesn't publish the last Thursday of November due to some archaic tradition. Weird.

Enough meta blather, on with the business!

I can't even talk about how excited I am about Dingo as a comic book. I did notice that it only has four issues to jam in all of the brilliance that's there, but issue #1 hit a lot of points and the actual novelist is writing the adaptation, so I'm completely on board. If it lets me down, well, that'll be a tragedy, but let's consider it a good start and move on.

I've been talking with a casual comics fan about how excited he is about the rise of Norman Osborn. This is a mostly DC-related guy who for a variety of personal reasons doesn't go to a comics shop every week. However, just from what he's seen in the brilliant Invincible Iron Man (brought to you from the mind of Matt Fraction) and the very scant Dark Avengers books I've grabbed, he's hooked. Sure, all the way back to Jemas, I've said some negative things about the Mouse House of Ideas, but as crossovers go, ones that inspire great storytelling and can win people over, "Norman Osborn as America's top cop" is doing the job in a major way.

Honestly? I really want Supergod to stand up and blow my socks off. Seriously. It feels like it could be big, but it just keeps yammering on and on and doesn't make the events mean anything to anybody. The academic-sounding narrator doesn't have a lick of character, and therefore there's no way to connect to the story. Super disappointing.

I've been friends with David Gallaher for a number of years now, and I did my best to like his "big two" debut. Sadly, the comic didn't give him enough room to shine, even with the great stuff he jammed in there. However, how the heck did the Red Guardian go from being "an engineer" to now being one of "the world's foremost experts in engineering."

The Sentry. Seriously? He makes me sad.

I guess I don't have much more to add, but those are the high points. Super sleepy because the oncoming baby is preceded by sleeplessness and lethargy. Excelsior, all.

Playing (Music): "In-A-Gadda-Da-Blue-Monday" mash-up with Orgy vs. Iron Butterfly (by DJ Schmolli)

The Next Generation

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 06:51:00 +0000

You can sit around and say I've gone soft and domestic all you want, but new faces and young minds in comic book shops is all the industry has between itself and slow, painful obsolescence. Respect due.

Shown here, "Sally" (I call school teacher and part time comics retailer Adam K. exclusively by little girls' names) is taking some time with some brand new customers interested in the legends of yore -- The Bat, The Spider, and so on. Pass the torch, y'all.

Playing (Music): "Sincerity" by Mary J. Blige feat. DMX and Nas

Commentary Track: The Buy Pile for November 25, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 22:54:00 +0000

First of all, let's be completely clear: this joint was done Thursday morning. Some little known holiday made CBR's leadership wanna hold off posting that day. Didn't stop Bleeding Cool, but they're from England, where Warren Ellis said, "Here in Britain, of course, it's 'Thank F**k We Got Those Weird Jesus Bastards On The Boat Day.'" I have no beef at all with that.

Anyway, on to the reviews.

I will say that for all the talk about Ultimate War Machine's capacity, I'd like to see some of that happen -- if his chest beam can level a major city, I need to see a major city leveled. It's like the old saying about drama -- if you see a gun in the first act, it has to be fired before the final curtain calls. Let's give Ultimate War Machine a chance to shine one day soon, shall we?

People think I hate Brian Michael Bendis. To be honest, people think I hate a lot of stuff that I just barely pay attention to. In any case, I've been critical of a lot of Bendis comics for the same reason I'm critical of some of Jeph Loeb comics or Warren Ellis comics or Jonathan Hickman comics or Peter David comics. I know they can do better. I can go pick up Batman: The Long Halloween or Transmetropolitan Vol. 01: Back on the Street or The Nightly News or Incredible Hulk Visionaries - Peter David, Vol. 6 (do you have six plus volumes of anything in print calling you a "visionary?" Me neither ... I should get to work on that) and point out, panel by panel, how they can do better. Every page won't be our best, but I need for the disparity to be less striking.

So when I pick up an issue like this, or some of his Dark Avengers stuff, where the script really hauls ass and the art keeps pace, I give praise where it's due. I have nothing personal against anybody in comics. Not the major company editor who acted like I was gonna rob them when I asked a question at SDCC one year, not the major company writer who's reputed to toss racial slurs around in casual conversation, nobody. I have artistic beefs with some people, and in some cases (one leaps to mind, as I see his Twitter updates) was settled quite impressively and said creative person has upped the game a hundredfold. I like that. Moving forward, doing better. It's tough love, but love nonetheless. Never forget I freaking love comics.

Moving on: I would tune in every single week if Chew were on TV. I've made many death threats against its writer John Layman (most of which were jokes), I've participated in his foolish blog challenge, and so on. But beneath the cloud of questionable smoke and the dazed look in his eye, he's actually pretty talented, and Chew is a great showcase for the twisted, multi-layered humor-slash-action-slash-drama style he has honed into something great. However, saying all that, the comic's good, but it's not "oh my god" good. There were a few issues that elicited such a reaction, ones where I re-read it and was like, "I can't believe this!" But most are just below that point, and I need that in a title like this which can allow Layman to be quirky without really needing to go very far with it.

A similar concern happens with Star Wars: Legacy. In my brain, I want so badly for this series to be good. I honestly want every Star Wars book to be a guaranteed purchase -- ditto for G.I. Joe and Transformers. These are, for better or worse, part of mu cultural inheritance, etched into the permacrete of my upbringing like tagger's legacies in the sidewalk. The threshhold between "good" and "great," to me, is the difference in what I'd watch on TV because it's tolerable and it's on and the stuff I watch with fervor, working hard to sit down with it and pay attention. If I'm happy to multi-task while it's on, it's not good enough to pay for, and the same goes for comics (although I can't multi-task while reading comics, or I'd get a lot more done).

While I'm at it, the same goes for Immortal Weapons this week, Criminal, Son of Hulk, Wildcats, Wonder Womanand probably a few more.

Now, for the SPOILERS. I dunno if Dove's white light shtick showed her as the first of the "White Lanterns" or not (now appearing all over Idaho), but the idea that all life comes from white light and all death from black light sounds like the same old 3rd Bass complaints. "Black cats is bad luck, bad guys wear black/ Must have been a white guy who started all that." (Fun fact, MC Serch is white, which is why I love using that line -- that sort of thing and singing rock music at karaoke are as close as I'm likely to get to reparations). Better yet, as Ras Kass said, "Black is the combination of all colors/White is the lack thereof/Darkness is beneath the ground, and in the skies up above." That's just science. So that stuck in my craw pretty badly.

I can't say how excited I am about the new Dingo comic that's coming from Boom! Studios. I read the original novel when it was chapters in a dude's blog and remember anxiously waiting for the next installment to drop. I'm so pumped, because I already read the preview PDF and I'm seriously walking right in and buying that bastard. Such a great story.

I've talked a lot about The Untamed #1 from Stranger Comics (and yes, I'm sorry about the Flash, it's so not my idea and/or fault) which is coming up, but it hits stores next week and I'm very jazzed about it -- and not just because I'm working with the publisher. It's a mean spirited dark fantasy set in a world that's equal parts Kurosawa, Tolkien and Sergio Leone. I love the tone of it and the pacing's measured, not slow. Due to the conflict of interest, I won't review it next week (I read the first two or three issues months ago) but I didn't wanna let it go unheralded.

That'll do for now. Have a good weekend.

Playing (Music): "The Professional" by Black Thought

The Jedi Temple: Rumond Taylor

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 07:10:00 +0000

Once upon a time, I had a wacky idea that I'd teach a lot of the things I learned as a professsional writer. I picked people with a mix of talents and ambitions and figured I'd have a go. This was a terrible idea, because real life had no desire to feed this particular ambition of mine.

However, a lot of good work was done while it lasted, so I'd like to present some of it. The work here is from Tennessee-based writer Rumond Taylor, often known online as Encyclopedia Black. He's smarter than he lets on, he's funnier than he knows what to do with, and he's a diamond in the rough shining through the muck of the mundane. Enjoy ...

HISTORICAL FICTION: My Dearest Sally

Whilst I was vacationing in Paris, a Frenchman sought me out the other day to ask me what he considered a fair query.

I dismissed him quickly as I had chapters of John Locke's manifesto to complete, and returned to my residence on the Champs-Élysées. (By the way, I must bring you with me some day. Your eyes have not dined until they have feasted upon Paris at daybreak).

His words were not quickly forgotten, however, and I have come to an important decision that will affect you and your children.

As I stare out of the window of this residence, I am reminded of the sweet taste of your fair skinned bosom. I think of the horrors I have imposed upon you, seeking you out in the dark, feeling my way through the warmth of your knickers.

And I am ashamed.

I'm sure you think me some monster, but I am not. I am merely a man with little time for the courting involved with carrying on affairs. Were I a more virile man, like that cursed Aaron Burr, strutting about with my chest poked out, always challenging people to duels, perhaps I would acquit myself better with the fairer sex.

But I have devoted my life to seeking and acquiring knowledge, and as such must seek pleasure where it finds me. I am not at all implying that this relationship (such as it is) is one of convenience, but a man of my means has had greater things to consider other than the feelings of a half-breed slave.

But no more. Effective immediately I am freeing you and your siblings. By law you have one year to leave the commonwealth of Virginia, and I will support freedom for your children as soon as they learn a skill trade.

Should you decide to remain at Monticello, I will see to it that you are relieved of your duties, and you and your heirs share lay claim, upon my passing, to your rightful throne as a member of the Jefferson Family.

I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you, and I hope in some small way, this gesture can begin to rectify the situation.

Yours truly,
Thomas

P.S. I was just stricken by the fact that I haven't yet taught you to read. Please disregard this letter.

RECORD REVIEW: Damn Near Perfect: Lupe Fiasco's The Cool

Lupe Fiasco has engendered the most online animosity of any new-school MC other than Lil' Wayne. His failure to remember the words to ATCQ's song during VH1's Hip-Hop Honors (dubbed "Fiascogate") and his stubborn refusal to apologize made him a frequent target of ridicule. So how did he respond?

He made a damn near perfect album.

The Cool is based on a song from Lupe's first album, Food and Liquor, about two characters, the Streets and The Game (not to be confused with the British and West Coast rappers, respectively). On the song "Put You On Game," Lupe brilliantly personifies The Game as the darkness that lies in the heart of man over a threatening murmur of a track. Lupe raps:

"I am the American dream/The rape of Africa/The undying machine/The overpriced medicine/The murderous regime/The tough guy's front/And the one behind the scenes."

Unfortunately, this theme is not followed throughout the course of the album, but is only hinted at on a few tracks. Had Lupe decided to make the entire album in this vein, it may have produced a dark classic like Ready To Die. As it stands though, the album is filled with enough solid songs that dropping the theme isn't entirely regrettable. Lupe's flow is so varied; meticulous and dense that deciphering the lyrical content is like pursing a novel.

Both the production and guests (save a lazy cameo from Snoop Dogg on "Hi-Definition") on the album are entirely from Lupe's 1st & 15th in-house production crew, which are both a gift and a curse. While the mixture of beats keeps the album from treading familiar ground carved by more famous producers, some of the beats, notably on "Gotta Eat" and "Intruder Alert" don't match up with the verbal dexterity Lupe brings. (though to be fair, the metaphor laden "Gotta Eat" is the weakest song on the album.)

Overall The Cool is a remarkable album that while notable for what it could have been is highly respectable for what it is.

OPINION-EDITORIAL: The Vanishing

Tragedy is defined in the dictionary as "an event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe" or "a play dealing with tragic events and having an unhappy ending, esp. one concerning the downfall of the main character." But in simpler terms, I think of tragedy as "just some plain ol' messed up stuff."

Case in point: some years ago I worked at a medical facility with a developmentally disabled man that I will call "Chris." Chris was a friendly guy with a sunny disposition who loved singing songs from commercials and watching cartoons. He could read, write, and had graduated high school. He was also diagnosed as having schizophrenia.

On my first day working at the facility, Chris greeted me by singing the theme from the "Tootsie Roll" candy commercial. You know, the one that goes, "Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a Tootsie Roll to me." I laughed, and we became friends.

I learned from his family that Chris' schizophrenia hadn't revealed itself until his junior year in high school. Chris was completely "normal" and was even a member of the track team. Then, out of nowhere, he began hearing voices and having visions. The family, not knowing how to deal with his outbursts and hallucinations, sent him away to receive medical care.

During the seven years that I worked with him, I never saw any signs of his schizophrenia. He had his bad days like everyone else, but his medication helped control the more difficult parts of his schizophrenia. I brought him to college parties with me, he visited my family during the holidays, and I took him home to see his family several times. I looked forward to going to work, and he became more like a brother to me than a client.

Then things started to change.

Over a gradual period of time, I began to notice a change in Chris' demeanor. He began sweating profusely. He began shaking uncontrollably when performing basic tasks. He stopped reading and talking. Our nursing staff was drew blood, ran tests, but couldn't figure out what was wrong. Doctors were puzzled as to what could be causing his downward spiral. Chris couldn't tell us, but obviously something was going horribly wrong.

I spoke with his family to update them on Chris' condition and I learned that Chris' father was displaying similar symptoms. As it turns out, both Chris and his father had Parkinson's disease. Chris' Parkinsons was compounded, however, by a lifetime of taking schizophrenic medications. Things went from bad to worse.

Chris deteriorated quickly as the muscles in his body betrayed him. The simple act of lifting a fork caused food to be flung across the room. His hands were clinched so tightly his fingers dug through the skin on his palms. He was unable to walk without assistance due to his leg muscles stiffening. Imagine flexing your muscle and holding it tightly. All day and night.

In less than two months, Chris' appearance changed drastically. He lost 40 lbs. He couldn't walk. He couldn't stand. His jaw was set so tightly his teeth grinded against each other. His body was so contracted his shoulders were swollen. Pressure sores covered his entire body. Drinking Ensure through a straw was the only way he could eat. But even that became a problem.

Chris began to choke on the Ensure we were serving him, putting him at risk for pneumonia. Our facility wasn't equipped to feed Chris intravenously, so the State Board told us that we had to find alternate placement for Chris, or stop feeding him meaning that he'd starve.

Until he died.

His family and I searched frantically for an open bed that could accommodate him, but many facilities refused to accept his insurance, thinking he'd die before they made enough to cover their expenses. I flatly told my superiors that I refused to watch him die due to lack of food and that I would feed him regardless of the consequences. I was told that if I fed him the facility would be forced to take action against me. I would not budge. We were at an impasse.

Thankfully, Chris' brother-in-law found a nursing home about 70 miles from Chris' hometown that would take him. The nursing home was small and understaffed, but at least it was an alternative to watching him die of starvation before my eyes.

As I packed his belongings in the van, Chris laid in a on his bed, his eyes watching my every move. I tried to explain to him that this was the best thing for him, but I didn't believe my own words.

The five and a half hour drive to the nursing home was the longest drive in my life. I knew that the next time I saw Chris, he would either be emaciated beyond recognition or worse, dead. As I drove, I sang all of the songs he enjoyed, and I could see him struggling to use his remaining energy to hum the theme to the "Tootsie Roll" song one more time.

We arrived at the home, and the orderlies helped me unload his things and check him in. I wheeled Chris down the hallway as we both took in this new environment. The walls were pea green and the floor tile had the faded look of a place built long ago. An old black and white television hung on the wall showing "Wheel Of Fortune."

I tried telling the orderlies about the way Chris laughed when someone told a joke, or how he liked to say that girls would get him in trouble. I told them how smart he was. They looked at Chris, and I could see them wondering how this desiccated shell of a man could be capable of the things I was describing. I realized that I was still remembering the person that he was, and not the person that he had become.

I stayed by his bedside longer than necessary, watchinghis eyes sizing up all these new faces. He seemed confused and scared, and I couldn't blame him. These people weren't his family. These people weren't the friends that he had known for the past 25 years. These people were strangers, and he was going to die here.

Alone.

I hugged him and lied through my teeth, telling him everything was going to be okay. He smiled at me.

That was the last time I saw him alive.

I cried as I got in my car, not wanting to look in the rearview mirror for fear that my guilt would make me go back into the nursing home and take him with me. Rain began to assault my windows as I drove home, and I thought briefly about pulling over but I couldn't take my foot from the pedal. I wanted to get as far away as quickly as I could. I kept driving.

When people tell me that their life is hard, or claim that something tragic happened to them, I think of Chris. I think of someone who never caused another living soul a second of grief, and all of the misery and suffering that was heaped upon his shoulders. And through it all, he still managed to smile.

Tragic, ain't it?

These are the final drafts of assignments he was given, and I believe they're top-notch and publication worthy. I hope to see more of his writing, and not just on the weekends when he watches sports.

Playing (Music): "The Professional" by Black Thought

The Buy Pile Commentary Track (two weeks strong)

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 21:57:00 +0000

I missed doing this last week because I got super busy with other projects, but here goes.

NOVEMBER 18, 2009

The biggest surprise is that I paid real US money (for what it's worth) for a comic book starring Brother Power the Geek. To be honest, on Steve's recommendation, I also bought a 1989 Swamp Thing annual written by Neil Gaiman. Steve (for some reason) thinks Superman co-creator Joel Siegel created BPTG, but Wikipedia says it's Captain America co-creator Joe Simon. I can't tell, but somebody went from the heights of heroism to the depths of weirdness. That's interesting in itself, and I'd love to hear the story of how that happened. I also was pleasantly surprised at the tender, almost hopeful tone of the Bat, reminiscent of his words in the "DC One Million" event.

Also: Hank Pym != "scientist supreme." That's dumb. Let's never talk about that again. However, Hank borrowing on years of experience and good old fashioned genius was awesome to behold, very Doc Savage "scientist-adventurer." I like that role for him. Less whiny. I do not need whiny comics. Also, Amadeus Cho taking down three Inhumans killer robots with a penny? How sweet was that? Cho and Hercules are an amazing pair of characters to put together, and I'm grateful to Marvel for getting that in as often as they can.

After reading the Powers Encyclopedia, I'm glad to know the stories but I'm glad I didn't read them. It's so strangely inbred and weird.

Phonogram however ... wow. I love the delicacy, intimacy and subtlety of Gillen's script, like the scene in the cab, or the bit in the bathroom. However, I would literally take a baseball bat into an elementary schoolyard for a chance to work with Jamie McKelvie. His artwork just speaks to me -- so crisp, so clean, so smart. There used to be an artist who drew very clean images of women in very minimalist lines, he worked in Playboy (my parents got me a subscription in the 1980s, that's how awesome I am) but I can't remember his name. Anyway, McKelvie is a much smarter, much more versatile version of that guy. One day I will have enough money (or extortion material) to get him to work with me. I will! Shut up!

I really have been very disappointed in Marvel for making a character like Owen Reece and never really doing much with him. A public showdown with Norman Obsorn's fun, but we all know the Molecule Man has a glass jaw and confidence problems that make the Sentry look like the poster child for sanity. I'd like to see the Molecule Man be less of a punching bag and more of a random force of chance, not cosmically aligned with the In-Betweener or anything, but more like the rain of frogs in Magnolia. Sometimes, things just happen, and he'd be those things. I'd set up an editorial conference with a globe, and set a path for him to be on. If that path intersects stories, so be it. If not, it's background. But he'd have to be less of a shlub, and if it can happen to Catman, it can happen for this guy. I'm just saying ...

Another thing I'd love? If Irredeemable just came out in big chunks. The periodical format saps a lot of the momentum from the stories. "Wait for the trade," yadda yadda, the market doesn't support that sometimes. I like the idea, I just don't like it in an episodic format.

Which reminds me: the "Norman Osborn's a good strategist and crappy tactician" argument got another notch in its favor with his Dark Reign: The List - Spider Man story. He knew the data was on a flash drive. He knew he had magnetic beams built in. He did not need to get close. His emotion with the Spider is his undoing, and will likely be what topples him. Also, how many people have raided his digital security? That's super embarrassing, dude.

I love Dawnstar and Wildfire. I like Blok and Mysa. That was almost enough, because that was one hell of a story in the back of Adventure Comics #4. But whoo boy, that zombie Alexander Luthor stuff was a waste of time.

I really wanted to check out "Drone" #1 based on solicits. Oh well.

I like a lot of books from Boom! Studios the way I like Flash Forward and White Collar and Lie To Me. Good stuff, entertaining, worth checking and worth sitting through commercials for. However, I'd pay actual money to see Glee or ... crap, I can't think of anything else right now. Anyway, Boom! has a lot of interesting stories that aren't very interesting (among the exceptions: 2 Guns, Irredeemable) and would work well adapted (probably intentional) but need a lot more ... lemme finish this with Deadpool below.

NOVEMBER 11, 2009

The new characters in the Minor Seven are slow to develop in "Gravel" #15, but I like where they're going. Speaking of Warren Ellis, I think "Supergod" #1 should have been a web-exclusive freebie preview and gotten right to the meat of the matter.

I also tweeted a little about this, but I'm torn about the developments in Black Panther #10. HUGE SPOILER ALERT ... YOU'VE BEEN WARNED ...

...

...

...

LAST CHANCE TO OPT OUT ...

...okay. Latveria going to war with Wakanda, allegedly shielded by an Asgardian populace there and with a little help from Namor, is a very interesting story idea. Doom's wanted to knock T'Challa's block off for years, but has been way too focused on Reed to do anything about it. That's all fine, I'm interested, I'm even okay with Shuri as a Proxy Panther. What I'm sad about is that there's not (unless I'm reading wrong) a single person of African descent involved with the project. Not one. Not Chris Cross, not Jamal Igle, not Afua Richardson, not MD Bright, not one. The biggest spotlight the Panther's gotten without a Hollywood name behind him

Don't get me wrong, I don't wanna take the shine off of Jonathan Maberry (whose talk show angle is a brilliant means to introduce exposition and still move the story along -- I want those two Wakandan analysts on the Marvel site, commenting about 616 at large), but still ...

While I'm under spoiler warning: Vril Dox, Sinestro Corpsman? Yes, please. More of that. But Nate Gray? Less of that. Seriously. Where's Marvel Boy and Fantomex? Those two are almost Cho/Hercules caliber!

SPOILERS AND WHAT NOT DONE, BACK TO REGULAR PROGRAMMING

I love Daniel Way's treatment of Deadpool, but the plots do need a little more "oomph" to them. What does that mean? Well, for three bucks, I need to be entertained more than I would be by an average TV show. I watch that stuff on Hulu, for free, often while working on other things. When I read a comic, I can maybe eat. That's about it. So for the cost and expenditure of time, I need it to step up. Deadpool started very strong with that and has been coasting a little. The aforementioned Boom! Studios stories hover but never soar. For three or four bucks, I need some soaring. That's almost a call to arms, and a statement about the way I buy, honestly.

Let me say this clearly: Red Robin has a good direction, it just hasn't been willing to go far enough. I hope that changes. Sack up and go macadamias.

Yes, I'm sad about the Purple Rain homage cover of Batman and Robin #6. Let's never speak of The Flamingo again. Seriously.

JSA vs. Kobra: Engines of Faith #6 let me down. Not in a big way, but it needs to be said.

The brother in S.W.O.R.D. #1 was a huge mistake. Stay on target!

Tabu out.

Playing (Music): "Everything is Everything" by Lauryn Hill

Love Comics Reporting

noreply@blogger.com (Hannibal Tabu, The Operative) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 19:28:00 +0000

I can't disagree with Andy Khouri's blog about live comics journalism more.

I've done a lot of conventions, sat near the front and types as fast as I could with the three to five fingers I normally use to type⁽¹⁾ to record Kevin Smith using the "n" word or Brian Michael Bendis yelling from the crowd at Joe Quesada or whatever the hell I was covering. I've done this work exclusively for Comic Book Resources, where I've worked in one capacity or another since 2003.

The live panels I've covered haven't been my best writing. I readily admit that. They've been challenging, to follow the thick accents and scattershot staccato statements of Dan Didio or some possibly anonymous Wizard staffer,⁽²⁾ be it in Long Beach, Rosemont or San Diego.

However, the one thing I know is that this "on the spot" reporting has been famously successful for CBR⁽³⁾ and supports one thing that Andy's blog fails to recognize: people refreshing over and over are people who are passionate about this content. They're the die hards in Kansas and Anchorage and Biloxi who are far removed from our coastal politics and don't see this jaded, bleeding industry the same was as Andy's Hollywood stylings would, or even my south central Los Angeles views can.⁽⁴⁾ Doing this kind of reporting is the closest hundreds and thousands of people can get to attending these conventions, their window into the comics world is a glowing rectangle shining on their face and hooked up to the wall.

The sheer scope of ingratitude for his piece -- getting free room and travel and admission to something people travel across the world for, and getting to give the messages that these people want to hear even when they can't make the trip -- boggles my mind. Sure, this isn't Pulitzer freaking journalism, but it's what the market supports and it's clearly what the market wants. It's not just "live comics reporting," it's love comics reporting, because there is a connection between the people who love these properties and these stories and the person bringing them what they want.

I for one am enormously grateful -- not just to the management of CBR for putting up with my prima donna demands and my surly attitude, but to the people who read the work. I've literally had hundreds and thousands of people who never got to read my work in Vibe or Black Enterprise or Rap Pages, nor on AOL or MTV Online, see my name and hear my virtual voice through the tapping of these keys, through the shared avenue of loving it. I'm also not afraid to say so -- when people send me hate mail, I thank them, because I could not have become the tarnished angel⁽⁵⁾ that moves among you all today any other way. Color me very much obliged, and quick to shout down anybody who'd speak against that simple passion, that unrelenting love, that's kept this dead tree industry alive.

As with all things, your mileage may vary. Standard disclaimers freaking apply.

Playing (Music): "Hate On Me" by the cast of Glee.

FOOTNOTES

(1) = I never learned to type like a normal person. I've hunt and pecked since I started at my high school newspaper, and it led to a weird style of typing where I use two or three fingers on my right hand and my index finger (with some chance assistance from the thumb) on my left. However, when I started playing MUDs in the 1990s, I got pretty fast, and now do between 55-65 words per minute ... with those same few fingers. Looks weird too.

(2) = Is it wrong that I'm surprised to not have seen streams of Wizard staffers grow up and blow up in the comics industry? I'm just saying ...

(3) = I won't reveal specifics I've heard because it's not my company and not my place to disclose. However, knowing that I can get paid three times more per story than I did when I started, and that amount of money being worth considering, and knowing CBR now keeps a freaking yacht for a week in San Diego while comping a staff of reporters, I'd call that a sign of success.

(4) = My little brother, who loves comics and lives in Milwaukee, can't walk by CCH Pounder in Trader Joes like I did last week after I got my comics. We take this stuff for granted, but it's considered quite amazing by a large populace of the world.

(5) = Apologies to Kurt Busiek, Brent Anderson and Rock Hudson.