Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7 – “The Road to War”

* Part 1 of 6 of the Civil War II storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7 – “The Road to War”! In the previous storyline, balancing home, school, and superhero time is tough, so Bruno helps make clones to put her in three places at once. However, the clones sucked ass. Also, the clones kept right on cloning until the city was overrun with Kamala Khans! It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Captain Marvel was able to come save the day, recognizing that Ms. Marvel was in over her head and she should focus more on home and school and worry about Ms. Marvelling when her home and school duties are less critical. It’s a lesson we all could learn! No superhero time until your homework is done, I always say.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7 [June, 2016]
Written by: G. Willow Wilson
“The Road to War”

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7

This story ties into the Civil War event, so there might be some goings-on that aren’t entirely clear. I guess we’ll just have to roll with it, eh?

The Tri-State Ultra Mega Science Fair is going on at Madison Square Garden, and let me tell you, it’s fuckin’ hopping! “Nerds of New Jersey!” declares Bruno loudly and embarrassingly in public. “Only one thing matters today. It isn’t winning first prize. It isn’t the year’s supply of duct tape that comes with it.” He narrows his eyes. “It’s beating the pants off those smirking sneakerheads from New York.”

The New York kids are like “HEEEYY, I’M FROM NEW YORK! WHO WANTS A BROOKYLN-STYLE PIZZA PIE, EH?” The New York team captain is Miles Morales, who may or may not be Spider-Man right now. Their whole goal is to crush Jersey, so these two factions have a lot more in common than they think! They really need to just hug it out.

New York has a robot, I presume, that they call “the Re-aktron”. It’s ready and fully assembled and it will do anything you ask, wink wink.

“You have one hour to prepare your entries for the first round of judging,” says the referee. The nerds put on their ready faces. “Ready, set… SCIENCE!”

The nerds hustle and bustle. New Jersey has an exhibit they’re calling the Skyshark – a real (?) shark suspended in water bubble by a thin membrane. While they get this prepared, Kamala plans on taking a quick peek into what New York is doing. Probably JERKING OFF HA HA HA HA! But seriously folks, they’re JERKING OFF HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!! But really, she small-ifies herself and moseys on over.

Ms. Marvel knows who Miles Morales is! Spoder-Maan. But he doesn’t know who she is. And that’s an advantage, right? She doesn’t really take it that way. “If I’d known Miles was going to be here, I would’ve come down with sudden flu-like symptoms and stayed home.”

Walking around the size of a squirrel she finds New York and Morales immediately senses something. Fuck! Kamala scurries off.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7

Come on, don’t worry, Kamala. The kid can’t even sense when his dick is stuck in a pickle jar. And it happens a lot.

She runs to a closet and big-ifies, thinking the coast is quite clear. The coast was not at all clear. Morales creeps up above her on the ceiling all spider-like and WHOMP! Lands on the floor, scaring the bejeebus out of her. “AAAAAH!” she is known to scream.

“What are you doing back here, New Jersey?” he sniffs.

“What are you doing back here, Brain-from-Brooklyn?” Kamala retorts.

“Scoping the perimeter. Making sure a certain team isn’t spying on the competition.”

They bicker for about three panels before they do some teenage fuckin’ on the floor. Just kidding! They hate each other! And judging will start on the floor in about five minutes, so places, people!

Kamala returns to her group with nothing to report except, “That Miles Morales guy cornered me and accused us of spying!” And Bruno is shocked. “Everyone spies! It’s tradition!”

It’s weird that he knew Kamala was there, though. Something fishy is going on, and it’s not tonight’s tuna tartare. Or is it?

Time for New Jersey to present their first-round project! “The world’s oceans face great threats from climate change, dumping of plastics, and acidification. Some of the planet’s most majestic marine animals are now under threat. Unable to survive outside the water, they faced certain extinction. Until now.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7

Booooo!!

A total Karen in the audience accuses the kids of animal cruelty and sentences them to five months in the salt mines. Also, disqualification. The kids argue that it’s an adopted ASPCA rescue shark, so stuff it. The shark looks happy enough to me, so who am I to complain either? Let’s just give these kids a blue ribbon so we can start the pie-eating contest.

The referee allows it! Whew! So now it’s New York’s turn. “Pressurized environments for endangered marine animals,” says Morales. “Going for the sympathy vote as usual, Jersey. If that’s how you want to play it, fine. Let’s see you top this.” He puts on some fucking sunglasses. “Hit it, guys!”

Meet the Re-aktron! It pleasures your dick in a way that pickle jars can only dream about. “The world’s first portable electricity upcycling plant. Static cling? Those little zaps you get from your cell phone after you’ve dropped it a couple times? The Re-aktron harvests it all over the air and turns it into usable electricity.”

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7

And what do we have? A shark in a bubble? Well, that’s a kick in the ol’ nards…

“Hold on a minute,” yells Kamala, bum-rushing Morales. “You say the Re-aktron collects this stuff through the air? How do you know that’s safe?”

“Tesla proved it was safe,” replies Morales, sunglasses aplenty.

“You don’t get to randomly invoke Tesla for something like this,” Kamala gripes. “It’s like Godwin’s Law, but for science.”

Morales is smug as shit; calls Kamala a sore loser. She makes fun of his sweater vest and stomps away, vowing to trample him in the next round when they unveil the Pickle Jar 2.0. And Bruno has an idea, too…

Mike, Bruno’s girlfriend, tells Bruno to stop taking things so personally. Bruno retorts that if he and Kamala don’t get noticed at this stupid science fair by recruiters, they won’t be going to college. It’s that simple, lady. And don’t give me that “maybe Morales is in the same situation” because FUCK YOU that guy is from NEW YORK. Have you ever even BEEN THERE?? BLEEECCCCCHHHH!!!!!!

Here’s Bruno’s big gambit: a little device called the Fusionmaster 2000. “The world’s first miniature nuclear power generator!” he boasts, holding the likely dangerous, radioactive thing in his hand.

“What?!” says a kid from the New York team of New York fucks. “You guys want to make a fuss over whether our submission is safe, then you whip out a pocket fusion reactor? What happens if that thing melts down?”

Bruno is like “a banana is more radioactive than this teeny tiny little–” and then it blows the hell up all over everyone. Now kids may be critically injured. Now there’s a fire in Madison Square Garden. Bruno’s not dead, but he should be so ashamed of himself that he may as well be. “We’ve got to get everybody out of here, fast,” Kamala says, going into that annoying superhero mode.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 4), Issue #7

Sounds good, kid. Let me know when you see one.

Kamala has the same idea as both Spider-Man and Nova, two other heroes in the room that decided to costume up and save various teenagers from inhaling radioactive smoke.

“So, this is one of those moments,” Kamala thinks as the awkwardness permeates the room. “Those moments when somebody could say something. State the obvious. But when you’re on a team of superheroes, you learn not to see the things your friends aren’t ready for you to see. So you let the moment pass. And you do your job.”

Very profound. The three heroes save the day. Bruno and other members of Team Jersey slump on the curb outside of the venue, dejected and miserable. At least nobody won the fair, but a nice scholarship would’ve been the bee’s knees for real.

Kids from the New York team share the curb and apologize for trying to turn a simple science fair into a stupid war. Morales sits down next to Kamala, apologizes, and yearns for a fresh start! They introduce themselves to each other, starting what I imagine will be a long and fruitful friendship! *trumpet fart*

The news that night covers the explosion at Madison Square Garden. The story features a picture of Bruno making a “YAAAARRGHHH!!” face. “The culprit was a miniature fusion reactor created by Jersey City high schooler Bruno Carrelli, a local boy genius. More on this story as events unfold.

And then, meanwhile, in New Attilan, Medusa and a kid named Ulysses are watching the Jersey City local news. I don’t know who Ulysses is, but the kid has premonitions, and that shitty picture of Bruno looking like shit makes him feel like something big is about to happen.

Something big…

And also… big…

Final Thoughts

Science fairs are for virgins.


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Archie (Vol. 1), Issue #347

Welcome to Archieness & Riverdalers Presents: Archie (Vol. 1), Issue #347!

Archie (Vol. 1) , Issue #347 [May, 1987]

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

”Guess Who”

In today’s story, “Guess Who”, Archie listens to “American Woman” until his parents throw his stereo out the window, hitting an American woman in the head and killing her instantly. It’s prison time for Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, and Archie is orphaned. He lives in an orphanage where he’s fed gruel until his stomach needs to be pumped. Then he dies of exposure because his cot is near a crack in the wall.

Where was I?

“Guess who just made the Riverdale High hockey team!” Archie exclaims holding a hockey stick, making the guessing game a little bit too easy. Betty and Veronica look at him with dopey expressions and ask him who. Archie gets mad. “Why me, of course! Who did you think I was talking about?”

Archie raises his fist like he’s about ready to deck a couple of girls in public, but then they ask when they can see him play. Why, the first game is Saturday afternoon! So don’t miss him getting hit in the eyeballs with a puck, it will surely yield hilarious results!

Jughead, ever the killjoy, inquires as to whether Archie should be playing such a dangerous game. Archie ain’t scared of no hockey. He’s got hockey in his blood, don’t you know. His father was Mario “Hockey” McKnickKnack. Plus, he’s the goalie! Goalie isn’t a dangerous position!

On Saturday, the game begins and the girls don’t see Archie on the ice at all. Not at all! “I don’t want to see a hockey game if Archie’s not playing!” Veronica grumps, storming out. Betty agrees. She storms out, too! And, on the ice, Archie takes off his Jason Voorhees hockey mask and wonders where his girls are at. A comedy of errors already!

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

Blockin’ pucks and lookin’ good while doin’ it!

So Archie’s a natural, as it turns out, and Riverdale wins the game! A celebration at Pop’s is in order, but the girls are already there. He brags and boasts like a jerk, and the girls are like “whuzzat, you weren’t even on the ice, you filthy ginger”. And Archie is like “I GOT A STANDING OVATION AFTER TAKING OFF MY MASK, BITCHES! YOU WEREN’T THERE?!”

“A mask? No wonder we didn’t see you!” says Veronica.

“Who wants to watch you wearing a mask?” says Betty.

“If you want us to watch you play again, don’t wear a silly mask!” adds Veronica.

Archie throws a fit on the floor, which is actually something I’m not making up. He cries and flails. “But I was great today!” he wails, seeing his chance to get a little nookie tonight fading away fast!

”Hand-Tooled Torment”

Below is a real thing Archie says. I didn’t make up a single word.

“Sufferin’ snakeskins, Mom! Look what Uncle Billy Bob sent me! A pair of genuine hand-tooled leather cowboy boots!!”

That’s right, folks. Here in Issue #347 we’ve run out of ideas, so what we have here is a story about Archie’s new shitkickin’ boots.

“Hmph!” snorts Mrs. Andrews. “That’s Billy Bob all right! Just as impractical as ever!”

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

You look like you’re about to get shot in the chest by Clint Eastwood.

Archie is more excited about cowboy boots than any 16-year-old kid has any right to be. Mrs. Andrews comments upon how cute he is in his high heels. “I’m gonna mosey down to the school and show the kids!” Archie says, which is exactly what a man in a trench coat would say. He wobbles dramatically as he walks down the sidewalk, looking drunk as fuck. Thanks, Uncle Billy Bob.

“Mercy me, Miss Abigail! Yonder comes Teetering Tex!” says Veronica.

“I swan, Suzie Mae! He do wobble a bit, don’t he?” says Betty. Again, we see two girls positively EMASCULATING a man, who has every right to sex! MY RIGHT-WING SENSIBILITIES ARE INJURED!

“Don’t tell me Archie,” chimes in Jughead. “You lost a bet and you have to wear those stupid things all day, right?”

“WRONG!”

lol

“The heck with all of you!” Archie says, bringing out the big swears while his heal gets caught in a sewer grate. Hahaha. Take that, idiot. “Hang there, hopalong,” says Jughead, reaching down to help. “I’ll have you loping down the trail again in a minute!”

The three of them continue to throw shade in Archie’s face while he slips on some ice and falls face first into a wastebin. Reggie walks by, sneers, and calls him trash! Haw haw!

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

Bzzzzzz!

Later, in the school, Archie clacks his way down the hallway, drawing the attention of Fat Mr. Weatherbee. “Egad!” he exclaims fatly before contributing his own brand of hilarious shade! Archie growls.

Jughead runs into the school. “Arch! Ms. Grundy threatened detention for lateness! We have half a minute!”

“Oh! Gosh! You’re right!” Archie responds, taking somebody’s lord’s name in vain, at any rate. But guess what? Can you guess?!!?! Archie can’t run down the halls in his stupid $8,000 snakeskin boots! “EEP! They keep throwing me off balance!” he gripes. He falls into a girl named Thelma’s arms, drawing the ire of Veronica. “ACK!” Archie yelps like Cathy in a candy store.

“Ron! Please!” Archie stumbles over to one of his main squeezes.

Veronica responds with icy speech balloons. “Don’t you ever talk to me again as long as you live!”

Dejected, having ruined every relationship and friendship he has in his life, Archie bangs and clangs his way back home in his socks. He’s late for dinner again! Into the brig with you!

Mrs. Andrews tells her wretched son that he could’ve gotten frostbite. Archie says angrily that he already got frostbite from Veronica!

*sad trombone farts*

”I Stink, Therefore I Am!”

“Bye! I’m going to the school dance!” Archie waves as he leaves the house smelling like a gallon of Axe body spray. “Archie!? You’re wearing another cologne?” Mr. Andrews exclaims. “Tonight it’s strawberry, last night it was pine, and the night before that… cinnamon! What gives?”

Archie looks sheepish in his blue-and-white striped tie and his brown jacket, lookin’ like a car salesman. “I use various colognes depending on who I’m dating!” Archie says, ready to tell his parents all about his hound-doggin’. Betty likes pine, Veronica likes cinnamon. Heather, his date tonight, is a bit of an extrovert, and extroverts like strawberries! Archie sprayed it all over his dick and balls.

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

Cheesecake is for lovers, I read that in a Bible once.

Archie picks up Heather and they take off to the school where the gym is filled with horny boys wearing cologne. The air is choking with odors wafting around like a bag in the breeze. One kid is wearing “Garden of the Gladiators”. Another is wearing “Honeysuckle for Hunks”. Then there’s “Macho Musk” and “Swashbuckler’s Sachet” and “Powerhouse Posie” and “Hyacinth of Hercules” and “Robust Rosewater” and oh my god are all the girls shutting their legs with a snap at all these shitty colognes.

Reggie pops into Archie and Heather’s purview smelling like some guy fucked a flower. “Brawny Blue Blossom”, son. And when Heather comments upon liking Reggie’s cologne better, Archie takes Reggie’s bottle of the stuff and splashes some on himself. Then Moose splashes more cologne on and all the guys are wasting cologne and making the place smell awful. All the girls are literally choking to death. Literally!

“I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE!! I’VE GOT TO GET SOME FRESH AIR!” screams Heather, and the other girls agree. They all run out of the gym, gasping at the sweet, sweet outdoor air.

Then Jughead walks by. Good ol’ asexual-as-hell Jughead. The girls think he smells positively alluring! What is that scent?! It’s captivating! Exhilirating! It’s Eau-de-Jughead. He doesn’t wear cologne! Not a drop!

So about 11 girls start chasing him down the street, all with hearts floating above their heads. Imagine that shit!

“Look!” Reggie sneers. “After all the trouble we went through to smell nice, they pick Burger Breath!”

“Yeah! That really stinks!”

Then Archie pours ketchup on his dick and chases after the girls.

”Up for Grabs”

Speaking of school dances, there’s a school dance only two weeks away! Grab that cologne and–

“Has Archie asked you to go?” Betty smiles at Veronica, clearly wanting some of that fresh, pristine Archie beef log for herself. “Face it, Betty!” Veronica says haughtily in her lavish fur coat. “When it comes to dates, I’ve got Archie wrapped around my little pinky!”

…uh, heh, by that I mean, uhm, he hasn’t asked me quite yet, but the day is still young! In the meantime, it’s shopping time! Toodles, unwealthy blonde girl!

When Veronica walks away, the mice come out to play! The “mice” here being Betty, who is excited that Archie still hasn’t asked Veronica. “If I play my cards right, there’s still a chance I can get him to take me! YIPPEE!”

Fawning over this lanky ginger loser is the least realistic part of Archie comics. That kid bites.

Archie (Vol. 1), Issue 347

I found a swordfish in your alternator. I ate it just in time, of course.

Later that day, Archie catches Betty working on his car for free. He’s all like “Thanks, Bets! Now I can go over to Lodge Manor for dinner!” This is the part where Betty goes home and pokes her Veronica voodoo doll with a few more pins.

At Lodge Manor, Archie finishes a wonderful meal of boiled lobster and alternator swordfish. “If Betty hadn’t worked on my car, I might not have been able to make it!” Archie smiles doofily. After he leaves, this is the part where Veronica goes to her room and sticks her Betty voodoo doll into a meat grinder. “Betty’s using cheap tricks to get a date with Archie before I do! From now on, it’s TOTAL WAR!!” she yells, turning red in the cheeks.

Betty and Veronica should just date each other. They clearly want to. My gaydar is going haywire.

The next day, Betty wears her rags to school. “Do you like my new dress? I made it myself!”

Archie pops a boner. “Like it, Sugarlips? I love it!” But then he continues his sexism by giving Veronica the ol’ “VA-VA-VOOM” when she shows up in some French dress. Betty drags her across the room for a come-to-Jesus meeting. Archie is ten feet away looking stupid while Betty tells Veronica that Archie’s too smart to fall for her tricks. Then it’s a “HE’S DATING ME / NO HE’S DATING ME” fight that culminates in the two of them courting Archie’s favor over the course of the next week. Sharing milkshakes, holding hands in the sunset, long walks in the moonlight, and kisses for everyone!

The big day arrives! WHO is Archie going to ask?!

“THE SCHOOL DANCE? I CAN’T GO! I’M VISITING MY RELATIVES THAT WEEKEND! DIDN’T I TELL YOU?”

Betty and Veronica vow to create an Archie voodoo doll and throw it off a bridge.

Final Thoughts

Archie.


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Don’t Besmirch the Church!

Mom! Help! Pope Benedict XVI is hiding under my bed again!

I’m not a church-going man. Then again, I’m not a hardware-store-going man, museum-going man, sports-event-going man, IKEA-going man, or a California Pizza Kitchen-going man. Hell, I’m not much of a man at all! I’m a 38-year-old boy symbolically living in his parents’ woefully unfurnished basement trying to download episodes of Malcolm in the Middle from KaZaA with a 56k modem.

But enough about my poor self-esteem, this post is about church! I can’t pinpoint exactly why I find church so abhorrent, but it might have a lot to do with the word “church”. Too many ch’s in such a small word. It’s awfully aggressive if you ask me. I wonder if flock-strayers like me would be more amenable to church if it was called something else, like “congregation” or “Best Buy”. And the socialization! I don’t know about you, but my idea of a good time is sitting on my couch watching Six Feet Under and pondering my fragile mortality at 1am until I slip into a deep panic attack, not going to church at 10am on a Sunday! These two are inherently incompatible and would require a concerted effort in changing my whole lifestyle to accommodate which includes, as I have already mentioned, symbolically living in my parents’ unfurnished and cold midwestern basement where the only god that gets worshipped is the benevolent TRUMP!

Here’s the real reason I’m not a church-going man: I was raised Catholic. That’s strike one. The Catholic upbringing was, however, casual and not strictly enforced. We went to church during only the following occasions: 1) Easter, 2) when someone died, and 3) whenever my mom felt guilty about not going to church more often, which was always a one-and-done sort of affair. I went through all the sacraments (that’s what they’re called, right? Sacraments? It’s been a while): baptism, communion, confirmation, juggling, motorcycle repair, and pestilence. Each one felt forced, and I went through the motions because it felt like something I had to do like school or eating my vegetables or hitting James Blum in the face with my hard Playmate lunchbox when I was 9-years-old.

Real baptisms are scarier.

Baptism: I was a baby when I was baptized, which means I didn’t provide my express written consent of approval. Of course, the ceremony is as relatively harmless as waterboarding and, other than having 45 withered old relatives gaze at you while you cry, it’s a simple procedure akin to open-heart surgery. The priest merely says some words in a sing-song voice while gently trickling holy water on your head (holy water is different from regular water as it comes in 28 oz bottles instead of the usual 16.9 oz bottles and it says “Holy™ Water by Dasani®” on them). After that, someone wakes up Uncle George who fell asleep in his car in the church parking lot, and everyone visits the home of the baptized child for finger sandwiches and conversations about the football game they all missed.

Communion: I was 7 years old when I had my First Communion, which means I got to eat some bread and drink some wine. Mostly I was just excited to eat some bread and drink some wine, but here’s the rub: the bread is a blessed circle of the driest cardboard your little non-Catholic brain can imagine, and about 245 herpes-mouthed 55-year-old wine moms put their lips on that Blood of Christ goblet before you got your turn. Now, this doesn’t matter to a child who just wants to eat some bread and drink some wine. But as an adult who isn’t all-in on the Catholic thing, this seems absolutely banana-fucking bonkers. An entire building of people drinking from the same cup, and the only line of defense is a filthy cloth? No wonder everyone in Europe got the plague.

Confirmation: I don’t know what this is exactly, because by the time I was 14 years old I had completely checked out of the whole religion mentally and was starting to ask myself deep questions like “If God already knows everything and therefore knows the full trajectory of my life before I even live it, why does He really care about how I act on this Earth?” and “What if our universe is just dust on a giant’s fingernail, whose universe is just dust on his fingernail, and that universe actually has visible evidence of the barbaric crocodile gods whom they all worship while we’re here wondering why God chooses to show Himself as blobs on pieces of toast?” Anyway, with Confirmation I recall needing a sponsor (who turned out to be an equally apathetic uncle), and going on several late-night Christian retreats with the other kids. Branden Garner laughed so hard at something that he puked up his pizza during dinner. That’s the only thing I remember. Obviously the faith and peace stuff didn’t make as much of an impression.

Josh Lyman from The West Wing — a Case Against GOD?!?!?

So then what? Confirmation happened in 2001 and I haven’t looked back since. Maybe it’s because those airplanes flew into the Twin Towers and The West Wing did a very special episode that was the worst thing on TV since they showed those airplanes hitting the Twin Towers, causing me to lose faith in humanity AND God in one fell swoop. Thanks, West Wing.

I labeled myself as agnostic in college for a while because I took the coward’s way out of sitting on the fence about it. I felt so fucking cool putting that on my Facebook profile, like “LOOK AT THIS SHIT, IDIOTS.” By then I was definitely not going to church anymore unless someone died, and even then I got out of it because I was a student at college doing studious things like downloading all the Phish shows I could get my hands on and catching up on episodes of Lost. I remember during one funeral — it was probably some horribly racist great aunt — when it was time for Communion. I sat there in the pew turning red because I could tell every eye in the room was on me. Just imagine everyone in a congregation staring at you with their cold Jesus-loving eyes while the priest has fourteen young boys locked up in the basement. How was I supposed to go up and PRETEND to be all-in on the Catholic thing. Honestly, that would have been more embarrassing.

I have my own hang-ups about funerals that I can get into another time, but I’ve made a decision that, if I can help it, I’m not stepping into a church anymore for the rest of my stupid life. I suppose that was the point of all this rambling in the first place. Fuck church!

*goes to hell*


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Batman (Vol. 2), Issue Annual #1 – “First Snow”

* Part 14 of 15 of the Night of the Owls crossover event *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1 – “First Snow!” This is Part 14 of the Night of the Owls event that I’m going through hella out of order. I’m not going to know what’s going on at it! It shall be most fun, guv’nor.

Batman (Vol. 2), Issue Annual #1 [May, 2012]
Written by: Scott Snyder / James Tynion IV
“First Snow”

Batman (Vol. 2), Issue Annual #1

FEATURING THE TORMENT OF MR. FREEZE! GET TO DA CHOPPER!

Over thirty years ago, in the cold tundra of Lowell, Nebraska, a little kid named Victor runs away from his mother. The “competition” started an hour ago (the dick-stucking competition) and he doesn’t want to be late (to the dick-sucking competition). Mom says that snowman-building isn’t for another two hours anyway, so slow your roll, bro.

Mom holds up an apple. They shall decorate their snowman with this, just how they did it in “the old country” (Myanmar). You cut up an apple and make all the facial features, apparently. Sounds like a lot of work. Where’s the fucking carrot, ma?

Victor continues to be excited about building a snowman, but he turns around to find his mother missing; apple on the ground. She fell through the ice and into the water, leaving poor Victor alone and crying…

At Arkham Asylum, on the Night of the Owls (12:02pm ON THE DOT), Victor is enduring an interrogation session. “And what happened to her, Victor?”

“The ice preserved her until help arrived.”

Victor claims that “owls” tricked him, stole his formula to bring their soldiers to life, and then tried to kill him. Just like he tried with some woman named Nora. Victor does not want any talk of Nora ever again.

“What time is it, Dr. Kearney?” Victor asks. TIME TO GET A WATCH, BUTTFUCKER! AHH HAHAHAHA!!

“A few minutes past midnight. Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to require your crayon.”

Dr. Kearney proffers a crayon, noting that it’s made of alcoholic wax as to not freeze. “You hurt me, Victor, they’ll turn this room into a sauna so fast, you’ll–”

Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1

Give your favorite red-sunglassed boy a hug!

KRAK. Hope you enjoy your broken neck, Doctor. The dead bastard lies on the floor while Victor opens up a panel on the ceiling and starts wrapping a wire around the crayon. Security personnel finds a weird anomaly in Victor’s cell – a power fluctuation. The temperature in the room is now 86 degrees below zero and dropping fast!

Victor – Mr. Freeze – has rewired the cooling systems in his cell and pissing off Dr. Arkham in the here and now! “Temperatures are dropping to unstable levels, sir,” says the security officer. “We have to stop the emergency power protocol from going into effect!” Sounds like baaaad news. Cold temperatures aren’t good for delicious hot things like my hamburger. What will we do?

Security officers with guns bust into Mr. Freeze’s chilly, snow-and-ice-encrusted cell. The officers freeze instantaneously. Mr. Freeze snaps a finger off of one of them for what I assume is funsies. Then he slurps up some delicious water…

More security officers round the corner and tell Mr. Freeze to come out with his cold little hands up. He acquiesces, appearing to be a Good Boy until he spits out freezing water in everyone’s faces. “IT BURNS! THE COLD… IT BURNS!” one security officer was known to say before, I assume, he died of cold face poisoning.

Freeze grants himself access to his special Mr. Freeze Suit™ as a Farfanick food services truck rolls up to the facility. “Right on time,” Freeze smiles.

At 12:45am at the aptly-named Iceberg Casino, the food services truck plows right through the fucking wall and into the spire of ice in the center of the lobby. Freeze emerges in his suit, looking quite dapper, I might add.

Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1

That’s right, slut. Fuck that ice! Fuck it!

Penguin “Cobblepot” McGurnsey views the spectacle from the top of the stairs. “We could have set a meet. I was expecting your call from the moment the Arkham incident came across the police wires. Do you realize how much this will cost me?” he chides playfully.

Freeze tells Penguin to just move some legitimate money into a vault and report a robbery. The cops will believe the shit out of that! And while Penguin finds this to be a rather elegant solution (read: not), he can’t help but feel like Freeze is angling for something here. Instead of explaining himself, Freeze launches into a monologue about how he used to torture animals as a kid. Social norms and etiquette be damned!

“You ask what I’m after, Oswald? Freedom. Freedom from this city.” He’s been abused by bats and owls and now he just wants some goddamned peace. But, more than anything else, he wants his guns back. *kisses arms*

Penguin laughs. This is more like it! Here’s your giant-ass gun, now make this robbery look real and see yourself out. Freeze makes the robbery look real, then sees himself out. “And now for vengeance,” he says, looking out at the city skyline. “Vengeance on the man who stole Nora from me…”

WELL IF IT ISN’T BRUCE WAYNE, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL. We are now at six years ago where Bruce is paying a visit to Lucius Fox at the Wayne Tower Laboratories. He introduces Bruce to Dr. Victor Fries, who seems normal right now and hasn’t gone crazy quite yet for Nora-related reasons. “Dr. Fries runs the small cryonics lab we keep beneath the laboratories proper,” explains the luscious fox. “Frozen heads abound.”

Dr. Burger-and-Fries asks Bruce if he had fun running amok around the world for no reason. Anyway, he’s working on the slow-heating process of cryo-preserved individuals. Bruce scowls – he thought the lab was moving away from that hocus pocus! Organ vitrification is where it’s at these days. Cryogenics is piffle! Piffle!

Lucius frowns.

“In fact, weren’t we supposed to transfer the rest of these old cryo-preserved bodies here to the Gotham University bio-lab?” Bruce continues. “I feel I was pretty direct in saying I wasn’t comfortable continuing with this line of research.”

Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1

Sorry, sir. I was living with apes and baboons for 1200 days. Please forgive me.

Dr. Fries assures Bruce that both can be done. New research along with old research. For the love of God, please! And Bruce, instead of saying “fuck off”, tells him fine, but he’ll be under extreme scrutiny.

Once Bruce and Lucius leave the lab, Fries moseys over to one of the cryogenic chambers that holds Philip J. Fry. Wouldn’t that be something?! It’s actually a woman – Nora. Fries holds his hand to the glass. “My Nora… don’t worry. They won’t take you away from me. I won’t let them. Not until I’ve found a way to bring you back.”

Her heart condition is curable now! He just had to figure out how to thaw her out. All he needs is time… time… time… time… time… *slow fade into the present*

In the present day, Dr. Freeze stares at the chamber in the ruins of the laboratory. He has figured out the warming formula and has blown the popsicle stand (heh) that is Arkham Asylum. He wipes frost off the chamber to reveal… AN OLD WOMAN??? “No… Wayne… when I get my hands on you–”

Little Damian Wayne Robin and Dick Grayson Nightwing show up suddenly to tell Freeze to stuff it. If he’s looking for his job back, then he can cram it. STFU!!!

“This is a private vendetta, Nightwing,” Freeze explains coldly (heh). “It does not concern you. Tell me where to find my wife and the man who took her from me, and we’ll have no quarrel.”

Nope! It’s fighting time! After a few panels of roughhousin’, Freeze plants his hand on the floor, sending a path of ice across the tiles and up Nightwing’s legs. With a perplexing WABOOSH, the ice encases Nightwing up to his shoulders.

Robin swoops down, but Freeze grabs his wrist and sends -1273 degrees of blistering cold up his arm. Give Freeze the information he seeks or he’ll shatter the kid’s arm like a piece of oh-so-fragile glass!

“Victor, it’s Bruce Wayne,” announces a voice from what I can only assume is some sort of intercom. “Let the boy go.”

“Wayne. Show your face.”

“Take the elevator up to the penthouse, Victor. We can still talk this through. Man to man.”

“I guarantee you, Mr. Wayne… talking is not on the agenda.”

Freeze lets go of the little pissant and walks into the elevator. Nightwing lets him ago, but Robin is like “Why?! Let’s kick his ass!”

Flashback to six years ago again. Dr. Fries has synthesized a new compound that will thaw Nora once and for all, and he’s going to use it in approximately eight seconds unless some unforeseen jerk decides to horn in on–

“No, Victor, you won’t.”

Bruce Wayne, fancy as ever, pops into the lab to explain to Victor that he had shut this project down months ago. And yet Fries has continued to work on his own private experiments! The nerve! “I can’t allow you to continue playing mad scientist while you neglect the research you were hired to do.”

Fries begs Bruce. Begs him. This is his wife, and they can cure her heart condition now! Please! Please!

“No, Victor. I’ve called the authorities.”

Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1

Eat chair, Millionaire Playboy!

The chair hits a tank of cryogenic fluid and it sprays all over Fries. Instead of killing him, it “radically alters his biology, as if each individual skin cell is capturing and storing the cold.” Doctors are now looking at him as the medical marvel that he is. If we turn up the heat, he could boil alive! And furthermore–

“Quiet. He’s waking up… Where are the goggles?”

“Whuh– Whuh–”

The red goggles are applied to Fries’ eye area, which will help his poor little eyeballs from freezing and falling out of their sockets amusingly. The first thing Fries does is get up from the table and bellow “WAYNE… BRUCE WAYNE! I’M COMING FOR YOU! YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME, MR. WAYNE!”

In the present, Freeze enters the penthouse and sees a single cryogenic chamber in the middle of the giant, empty room.

“…Nora?”

Batman breaks through the glass ceiling, shattering it into roughly 400,000,000 pieces. “It’s over, Victor. Put the gun down and surrender. Now.”

“You will not keep me from my Nora, Batman.”

After a blast of ice from the gun, Batman grabs Victor and gets right up in his ear. “Do you know how many men and women you’ve killed tonight, Victor? How many of them had families? Loved ones of their own? You claim to act out of love, but I don’t think you even understand the meaning of the emotion! Love requires empathy, sympathy, compassion. There’s nothing inside you but ice and hate.”

Victor says it’s not over until Bruce Wayne’s blood is spilled and he walks away with his frozen wife. He throws a ball of ice at Batman, which freezes him where he stands. Freeze approaches the chamber, but Batman busts out and warns him to stay away. “I will not let you walk out the door with her,” he growls.

Here comes the twist! Batman tells Freeze that he doesn’t even know her. Nora Fields, born in 1943, graduated from college before finding out about her incurable heart condition. Engaged to be married to a young lawyer. Her family opted for her to endure this risky procedure so that someday she could be cured.

Batman (Vol. 2), Annual #1

Your real wife died in the Oklahoma City bombing. She choked on a peanut while running out of the building.

“You never knew her, and yet you come back, time and time again. Mr. Freeze out to save his dying wife from the cruel businessman who took her away. But we both know that’s a farce, Victor. She’s old enough to be your grandmother, for God’s sake.”

Freeze doesn’t listen to any of this. He’s still like “Back off Batman!” and “I love her!” and “We’re meant to be together!”

Batman tells Freeze he doesn’t love anything but the cold. *punch*

As they speak, Freeze’s suit is being filled with the thawing formula, cooking him like a plump roast chicken. “Nightwing. Freeze is down. Get the Batmobile, and we’ll take him back to Arkham.”

Freeze remembers his mother. She is in a wheelchair, and Kid Victor pushes her across the snowy frozen lake. They’re going to build another snowman for the contest, but they forgot the apple. Don’t worry, they can get an apple when they get there. “Now rest,” he says, kissing her on the head. The ice breaks, sending his mother tumbling into the cold abyss of the lake.

Final Thoughts

Fucked up! That’s what this is! I was going to be like “just let him have his wife, jerkass” but then it was more fucked up than that! Now this was a Batman story! Good job, New 52. You redeemed yourself.

Stay tuned as a I someday hit the other series that cover the Night of the Owls story. Until then, though, enjoy America’s quick descent into fascism. Merry Christmas!


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Russian Doll, Season 1 – Groundhog Day Meets Columbo

Through the Idiot Glass Disclaimer: There will be spoilers. If you’re even remotely interested in this show and you haven’t yet seen it, or if you’ll be mad if you accidentally read any possible spoilers about it, I’m going to chalk it up to “not my fucking problem”. You have been warned.
Discussion Subject: Russian Doll, Season 1 (2019) (Netflix)

Russian Doll, Season 1

The Premise

Nadia (Natasha Lyonne) is an extremely sarcastic woman with a penchant for living life like it’s her last day on Earth. Unfortunately, she gets caught in a time loop where she keeps dying and waking up in the bathroom during her 36th birthday party. She becomes increasingly frustrated and panicked as she tries to figure out what’s going on and why this is happening to her. Basically, it’s Groundhog Day in fast-paced 21st-century New York City and without Andie MacDowell, thank god.

Russian Doll, Season 1

Reliving life? I’d rather be dead.

Things seem hopeless until Nadia runs into mild-mannered Alan (Charlie Barnett), who seems to be taking his identical situation with poise and aplomb. At least finding comfort in each other’s shared predicament, they work together to find out how they can break the cycle. You’ll laugh! You’ll cry! You’ll wish the season was longer than eight episodes!

My Half-Baked Thoughts

This was really good. I knew three minutes in, when Natasha Lyonne parades around her friend’s apartment with her cocksure Peter Falk-esque New York City-incarnate disposition, that I was going to immensely enjoy Russian Doll. Or at least Natasha Lyonne. Most of the joy of the series comes from the way Nadia carries herself, in my opinion, and it’s not often you find such a strong personality within a show’s main character. I was giggling at all her sarcastic one-liners, her facial expressions, the way she fucking delivers all her lines. Genius-level acting. Underrated.

Charlie Barnett is really good as the sad-sack, depressed Alan who makes the best of his odd situation. With optimism and positivity, he moves through his repeated days going over mantras of self-respect and self-assurance. Of anybody in Russian Doll, Alan seemed to be the most real and human, not a caricature. The season really takes off in Episode 4 when Alan gets introduced proper, showing the contrast with respect to the first three episodes of how he tries to fix his perceived mistakes between each death. While Nadia spends her Groundhog Day avoiding falling down the stairs and breaking her neck, Alan attempts to propose to his girlfriend the “correct” way.

Russian Doll, Season 1

I mean, seriously? Reliving life? Kill me.

These two play off each other really well, and I’m glad because much of the supporting cast was lukewarm. Nadia’s friends Maxine and Lizzy are pretentious and boring. Nadia’s ex-boyfriend John is age-inappropriate and boring. Nadia’s mother figure Ruth seemed superfluous, not exactly boring though. I didn’t care much about who anyone Nadia was talking to until Alan shows up in her elevator. Then the meat of the show — figuring out how to break their cycle — kicked into full gear. Alan thinks they’re being punished for being bad people. Nadia is like “fuck that noise” until she has her doubts. They try to retrace their steps that led up to their respawn moment. Alan realizes that his first death was suicide, which was a real kick in the ol’ nuts. Eventually, they come to the conclusion that they had crossed paths pre-loop and neglected to help each other out.

The story never gets bogged down in the time-loop physics — using it more as a plot vehicle than for worldbuilding. I don’t remember if it’s clear that Nadia and Alan die at the same time, but I know they respawn at the same time. It’s amusing when they talk about how they died before restarting again (usually something ridiculous, like collapsing from a pre-existing condition), or when they take it in stride that people and objects keep disappearing. The chemistry between them cultivates a very platonic dynamic, at least in Season 1. I’m willing to bet that things are going to change between Nadia and Alan in Season 2, but I sure hope not. I like it the way it is. I can’t see these two getting together in any sort of romantic sense, but I’ve said that before with two characters from a lot of different shows and I’ve always been wrong. Saul Goodman and Kim Wexler? I fucked that one up!

Russian Doll, Season 1

Me and my friend here, we’re tired of dyin’ all the time!

As with most fanciful stories, I like to try to put myself in Nadia or Alan’s shoes. What if I kept finding myself waking up to the same moment over and over again. I certainly wouldn’t be afraid of death anymore, which would be a fantastic boon to my mental health, for one thing! Unless it kept hurting really badly. Then I wouldn’t look forward to it. Would I keep trying to kill myself like Groundhog Day’s Phil Connors? Would I try to restart fresh and be the best version of me I can be? Would I take advantage of the respawn by binging books and movies and kill myself out of the convenience of gaining time (that last one sounds pretty attractive save for the “killing myself” part of things)? I think I’d start freaking out and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, but what if I’m already stuck in a time loop and I haven’t died for the first time yet? What if I die in 2070 and it takes me back to 1994. Maybe I did something terrible when I was seven years old that I’m still paying for 30 years later? I must have really hit James Blum hard in the face with my red and white mini Playmate lunchbox. I still feel bad about that, actually. Sorry, James.

Worth the Watch?

Yes, sir or ma’am. Eight short episodes. Knock it out in a weekend. It’s funny and thought-provoking. I’m going to watch the next season very soon. Not now though. I don’t like watching seasons back-to-back. I’m weird that way.

Russian Doll, Season 1

If we’re goin’ dyin’, we mught as well look cool. Ayyyyyyy!


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