The Eye of the World (Book 1) – Chapter 1: “An Empty Road”

The Wheel of Time - Book 1 - The Eye of the World

Our story truly kicks off with a couple of knuckleheads transporting their barrels of potent potables to the village of Emond’s Field. They are father and son — the former Tam al’Thor, the latter Rand al’Thor. By context, I’m guessing Rand is a teenage pimpleface who pops a stiffy every time he sees a girl even remotely his age. The local Emond’s Field pretty lass with the ugly name of Egwene scares him, probably because she’s very pretty and he’s likely not pretty at all. I’m guessing on that one. He’s not looking forward to seeing her.

It is incredibly windy outside on the road, but Rand and Tam push through. Behind them on the road, Rand spots a black-clocked man on a horse unaffected by the wind. His father doesn’t see him and CERTAINLY doesn’t believe Rand. Tall tales! Up your own butt with your tall tales!

They make it to Emond’s Field where the townsfolk are preparing for the next day’s great festival with the ugly name of Bel Tine. Women launder their nice clothes! Little boys and girls hit a ring with a stick because they didn’t have Nintendo in these medieval times, much to my own dissatisfaction with attempting to comprehend living a life 800 years ago. Yuck.

Rand catches up with his similarly teenage pimplefaced friend Mat Cauthon (not to be confused with Madison Cawthorn, the little boy whom no one needs to care about anymore). Mat, too, saw the mysterious black-cloaked rider and was scared out of his wits. Rand is relieved that he’s not the only one, but they are both nervous that they may have just witnessed the Dark One — the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. THE DEVIL!

Rand and Tam meet up with the Mayor of Emond’s Field, Mr. Bran al’Vere. If this Bran is anything like the Bran from a Song of Ice and Fire, then he is going to be the objectively worst character in this entire series. Bran tells the al’Thors that they’re going to have a gleeman for the festival! A gleeman is some sort of clown who plays the flute or something, and the whole village would be whooping it up to be in the presence of the finest gleeman this side of the Boring Small Town No Real Entertainment river. There was also promise of fireworks, which hasn’t actually been part of Bel Tine for 10 years, but everyone is going to be sorely disappointed when Year Eleven rolls by without firework one.

That’s about it for Chapter 1! Are these going to be the key players of the story? A couple of travelling nerds and the fat Mayor of Nowheres-ville? I sure hope so!


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Talking Heads

Talking Heads
Talking Heads were four nerds who started off as three nerds in 1975, meeting each other at the Rhode Island School of Design. I’ll tell you what they designed. They designed one hell of a band! Haha har har harhar!!

David Byrne provides lead vocals, guitar, and (lack of) personality. Chris Frantz hit the drums and wrote a few songs. Tina Weymouth was “the girl”; she also picked up the bass and brought the funk. Jerry Harrison joined the band shortly after its inception to bring MORE guitar and occasional keyboards.

The band were light years ahead of their time until they fell into the worldbeat fad near the mid-’80s. The band fizzling out and splintering can be attributed to Byrne being a complete weird and belligerent control freak. You can hear and read all about it in the many interviews and books among the members. Even Byrne himself will admit to the bad blood. I unconditionally love the guy, but you couldn’t pay me any money to hang out with him even once!

The band disbanded in 1991, only to fully reunite one last time (under duress) for a few songs after their induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002.

Talking Heads don’t have a website or anything! Here’s David Byrne’s Bandcamp Page.

JUMP TO:
(1977) Talking Heads: 77
(1978) More Songs About Buildings and Food
(1979) Fear of Music
(1980) Remain in Light
(1983) Speaking in Tongues
(1985) Little Creatures
(1986) True Stories
(1988) Naked

Talking Heads: 77 (1977) – Rating: 8/10
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Talking Heads - Talking Heads: 77

The album that shaped American punk. The album that, stylistically, seemed to come out of nowhere; in a year dominated by classic rock on its way out (or succumbing to ’80s artistic tastes for all the wrong reasons), in a year dominated my progressive rock becoming an over-inflated out-of-control self-parody (neo-prog, anyone?), in a year where English punk music surfaced as the antithesis to English prog rock (hello Sid Vicious), you had the Talking Heads’ debut Talking Heads: 77. Simple, unassuming. Almost in a vacuum. No obvious influences whatsoever. Funk? Dance? Pop? This is definitely not actual punk, that’s for sure.

I think the spirit of punk is what makes this wimpy, meek album a true blue punk album. Art punk. David Byrne’s already confident in his persona as the paranoid neurotic whose lyrics have no deeper meaning than what’s on the surface (“I pick the building that I want to live in/It’s over there, it’s over there“). This kind of ultra-literal, non-grandiose, non-metaphorical lyricism goes against everything that rock music had been up to this point. No love songs, no tough-guy machismo, no epics about fantastical subjects, no sad blues, no cheeky commentary, and no pop-happiness. It’s in a world of its own. It eschews conventions. It doesn’t get anymore punk than that.

The actual songs, of course, are fantastic. It takes a while to get into, and I certainly didn’t like it too much at first, but eventually these tunes become indispensable. Especially the latter half, making this a rare bottom-heavy record. There’s just the three of them playing — Jerry Harrison doesn’t show up until the next album — and the production is basically non-existent. Stripped down guitar/bass/drums setup with little to no flair. But it’s oozing with a weird charm. Byrne is oddly relatable as the hopeless introvert trying to turn this into a therapy session. “No Compassion” shows Byrne’s polite frustration at dealing with… well, people. “What are you, in love with your problems?/I think you take ita little too far/It’s not so cool to have so many problems/But don’t expect me to explain your indecisions“. What is this? Is this music? Yes. And it’s glorious.

Describing the individual songs is meaningless, because they’re all the same. The attitude is what’s important, and you can see glimmers of the future genius already. Once the music itself gets unnerving to match the lyrics, and once the sound is solidified once and for all as truly unique, that’s when it all comes together. For now, Talking Heads: 77 is brilliant in its simplicity. That shit is worth its weight in gold.

And, oh yeah, this is the album with “Psycho Killer” on it. You already know that song, and you already now how much they accomplished with so little.

More Songs About Buildings and Food (1978) – Rating: 6/10
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Talking Heads - More Songs About Buildings and Food

Yeah, I know. Giving a record like this a 6 would be considered blasphemous in most Talking Heads circles, but hear me out on this one, ok? Ready? Here we go… a lot of this record is kind of boring.

You heard me. Maybe the part of the problem is that I can FEEL the tediousness of taking and assembling 529 Polaroid shots of the band members standing there as I’m listening to songs like “Warning Sign” and “Stay Hungry”, but I’ve been listening to More Songs… for almost 20 years and there is just so much about it I don’t like. It’s jagged without atmosphere. It’s repetitive without the same Talking Heads: 77 charm. It’s internal diversity is incredibly weak. It doesn’t feel like any of this means anything. There are no peaks, there are no valleys. It feels like the flat, desolate highway of the Talking Heads discography.

Not at all Jerry Harrison’s fault. Adding him to the band was undeniably a step in the right direction, and the jangly interplay between he and Byrne that starts with this album helped shape the Heads’ trademark style. The repetitious jangly jangly jangliness was used sublimely on “Found a Job”, the jangliest Heads song you could ever damn well listen to. And it’s my personal highlight; I could get lost for days in that extended coda. Everything around it, though, I don’t know. “The Girls Want to Be with the Girls” is annoying, plain and simple (“And the boys say/WHAT DO YOU MEEEEEEAN?“), while songs like “Artists Only”, “I Am Not in Love”, “With Our Love”, “Stay Hungry”, they all are lacking in hooks and strong melodies. I’m surprised Brian Eno worked on this, because he’s a master of atmosphere and the atmosphere is non-existent.

OK, that’s enough of the bad stuff. “Thank You for Sending Me an Angel” does have atmosphere and a strong melody and meshes the angular guitars nicely with the non-angular keyboards. Plus, Byrne’s lines fit snuggly within the music in a manner I can’t say about most of these tracks, where it sounds more like Byrne is fighting to squeeze his lyrics in any empty space he can find. “The Good Thing” is a pretty song, and that endearing autism is definitely present on this one: “A straight line exists between me and the good things/I have found the line and its direction is known to me/Absolute trust keeps me going in the right direction/Any intrusion is met with a heart full of the good thing“. The Al Green cover “Take Me to the River” is the signature track, and it’s a very peaceful rendition if not a little bit long. Speaking of long, you can trim about two minutes off of “The Big Country”. It feels like it takes way to long to get to the best parts, the payoff, after all those romantic descriptions of farmlife, the minor chord chorus of “I wouldn’t live there if you paid me/I wouldn’t live like that, no siree“. They would tackle this subject of rural disdain ten years later on “(Nothing But) Flowers”, a song which is exactly as long and five times more interesting. BUT, if you be vibin’, you can do no better than “The Big Country”. It’s merely a slog of an album finisher is all I’m saying.

I can’t believe Brian Eno produced this. The mood is so stark and…absent. It’s a shame. It’s a good thing that the next two albums more than make up for this one, but I’m clearly in a camp of my own with my negative opinions about this record. After nearly two decades of listening to it, though, I’m fairly comfortable with my stance.

Fear of Music (1979) – Rating: 10/10
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Talking Heads - Fear of Music

Now we’re talking! Fear of Music single-handedly makes up for all the atmosphere missing from More Buildings… and shells out eleven excellent tracks in a row! If you haven’t listened to this, then do yourself a favor. It’s a real treat.

As any reviewer who thinks he’s unique will tell you, the title isn’t referring to being afraid of music. It’s showcases a collection of “fear of” music! Fear of mind! Fear of paper! Fear of cities! Fear of life during wartime! Fear of air! Fear of heaven! Fear of animals! Fear of drugs! All these reviewers fail to mention that this template doesn’t work with the other three tracks, and it’s a shame, but 8 out of 11 ain’t bad. Fear of electric guitar? That’s not scary! We learned a long time ago that the devil doesn’t care too much about electrifying your guitar.

Add Brian Eno’s moody production to the fear angle and you’ve got a winner. From the cover to the apparent mental health of the vocalist, this stuff is dark. And yet… hold on… are those melodies I hear? Finally? After two albums of uniformity, for better and for worse, I have an album with a distinct musical thumbprint for every track? “I Zimbra” and its claustrophobic worldbeat rhythms? “Life During Wartime” and its bombastic new wave swing punk? “Heaven” and its ethereal and uneasy melancholy? “Animals” and its snarling, punchy aggression? I could go through each one. “Paper” and its moody jangle rock progressions? “Drugs” and its totally tripped-out murky lethargy? Should I do each one? “Memories Can’t Wait” and its hellish, gothic despair? Don’t stop me now! “Mind” and its almost mocking guitar lines? Oh god, he’s going all the way, isn’t he? “Cities” and its razor saw guitar solo? “Air” and its harrowing ghostly synthesizers? “Electric Guitar” and the fucking tuba? And it all manages to be memorable, oh my god.

And it’s all so well put-together. It’s clever and self-aware, with not a single overly ridiculous song where the fear is campy. The fear is all in the head, man, and that’s the worst fear of them all. “Heaven” is the best song I’ve ever heard about an afterlife. The gentle guitar slowly becomes slightly distorted, as if addled by mood-stabilizers, while David Byrne gets riled up (but not too much) about Heaven being “a place where nothing ever happens”. He never outright highlights the concept of eternity, but he goddamn sure gets you thinking about it! Or how about “Cities”, where Byrne doesn’t entirely sell himself on the idea of moving to a city. You can hear the apprehension when he talks about “getting some thinking done” at the dry ice factory, as if there’s got to be SOMETHING to look forward to. And then “Drugs”, which interrupts a trip with invasive thoughts about bill collecting. Every song has these quirks that adds to the experience that Fear of Music provides to the listener. Like the lyrics are coming from a man on the brink of insanity, but just far enough from insanity for one to empathize with. It’s genius.

Instant classic. Find me a better album from 1979 and I won’t make you listen to Smashing Pumpkin’s “1979”, which is also quite moody.

Remain in Light (1980) – Rating: 10/10
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Talking Heads - Remain in Light

Remain in Light dropped on October 8, 1980. The ‘80s had barely started and the album was already a major contender for the best of the decade. Nay, one of the best albums of all time, at least in the post-classic rock era. It’s the ultimate convergence of all the good facets of Talking Heads on one album, perfecting the atmosphere from Fear of Music and avoiding the accidentally sort-of-dull aspects of the worldbeat they would play around with on Speaking in Tongues and beyond. Plus, this is the one with “Once in a Lifetime” on it; the song with that music video. Byrne at his peak Byrnian.

The album’s first three songs are perhaps the best three-song run in the history of rock music. A back-to-back-to-back sprawling urban paranoia that’s as painfully blue, black, and red as the cover art. “Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)” cryptically references an oppressive government, with vocals suffocating under an oppressive beat. The rhythms are repetitive and and in constant motion. “All I want…is to breathe…”. Brian Eno provides the bridge with a mess of bubbly electronic effects, almost to mock the narrator. “Crosseyed and Painless” slows down (barely) with the funkiest groove you’ll find on this end of the neuroticism spectrum. I think Byrne here is discussing the concept of “the more we learn, the more we realize we do not know”, pointing out the irony of facts ruining everything for the fact-finder. The music is sublime as shit, man. I love the falsetto chorus. “There was a liiiiiiine/There was a formula/Sharp as a kniiiiiiife/Facts cut a hole in us”. Certainly, the best for last, is “The Great Curve”, a contender for MY personal favorite song ever written. The jangly, perpeptual call-and-response phrases, the angular Belew guitar solos that are designed to dance nimbly around those call-and-response phrases, the perfectly layered vocal harmonies, the many melodies, the unrelenting energy; this shit COOKS. It’s the perfect song. Listen to it and be converted.

The rest of the album is a bit of a cool-down after the first high-intensity 15 minutes. You already know about “Once in a Lifetime”, it warrants no further comment. “Houses in Motion” foreshadows the funky rhythms of Speaking in Tongues, while the underrated “Seen and Not Seen” offers some weirdo spoken word nonsense about consciously prearranging one’s own first impression over some pre-trip-hop psychedelic beats.

Then comes the real cool-down with the final two tracks. “Listening Wind” brings us through the swampy jungle. Gone now is all the urban agoraphobia — replaced with cautious uneasiness. Then “The Overload”, a droning, introspective recap. The apocalyse is over, and the endless dreary wasteland lies before you.

A classic. 500 words doesn’t do it nearly enough justice.

Speaking in Tongues (1983) – Rating: 6/10
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Talking Heads - Speaking in Tongues

Obviously a step back, no one will ever doubt that, but I will go as far as to say that it’s also a disappointment. I don’t think Speaking in Tongues, the biggest commercial success to date, is as good as everyone says it is.

This album marks the first shift to predominately soul, funk, and worldbeat. Meaning, the first shift away from art punk and, much more importantly, the first shift away from the full-frontal neurotic overthinking and paranoia that makes Talking Heads so special in the first place. But, forgetting all that, let’s take Speaking in Tongues at face value. You’ve got “Burning Down the House”, which is one of the best Talking Heads songs there is, kicking the album off. You’ve got “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)”, which is one of the most beautiful Talking Heads songs there is, ending the album proper. The rest is very middle of the road. Perfect songs bookending a lot of mediocrity. A lot of filler, a lot of lukewarm musical ideas. Tracks meander and most are overlong. I think it’s all JUST OK.

Speaking in Tongues also goes back to the early era problem: lacking diversity. This is the swampy funk album, played straight with barely any room for any other style. These are some funky tunes with some care taken to maintain genuine authenticity with some synth lines scattered throughout, but the whole record has this disco dance vibe that isn’t particularly thrilling. Brian Eno is gone and so goes the extra artsiness that he brings to the table, plus the new wave-y glam that he’s good at.

I obviously don’t hate the album. In its defense, the overall atmosphere of darkness rivals Fear of Music and will be the last of sinister Talking Heads you’ll hear going forward. I think displaying the seedy, murky underbelly of jungly dance beats is a solid concept in theory. There’s nothing objectionable from what I consider the mediocre middle. “Making Flippy Floppy” perhaps has the advantage of being right after “Burning Down the House”, but I’ll be goddamned if it doesn’t have one of the record’s better beats with an instrumental bridge reminscent of the seductive, dark energy of Remain in Light’s “Houses in Motion”. “Girlfriend Is Better” is also decent, long-ass coda notwithstanding. Plus you get the famous “Stop making sense” line here!

After that, there’s really nothing to get too excited about until “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)”. I don’t really remember the difference between “Slippery People” and “Moon Rocks” or “Swamp” and “Pull Up the Roots”. And why should I? They didn’t really make it easy for me! This album not only feels like the very first step back, but perhaps a deliberate one at that. There’s certainly a momentum here, and it may not be in the direction that fans want it to be, but god knows Byrne is a stubborn one.

Little Creatures (1985) – Rating: 7/10
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Talking Heads - Little Creatures

I personally think this is a step up from Speaking in Tongues, which I understand is a blasphemous offense punishable by seven life sentences in the sixth circle of Hell along with the loathsome heretics. I own that. I don’t care.

Little Creatures steps away completely from the swampy worldbeat of the previous album. This is all pop music, baby. Simple melodies that haven’t been heard since the cutesy Talking Heads: 77 days. The production is slicker, almost to a fault as all pop albums were in the mid-‘80s. There are even twangy pop-country songs incorporating a steel guitar! And I don’t hate this! The melodies are so strong and memorable compared to half of the tracks on Speaking in Tongues that the only issue one could have with this record is the band’s alleged selling out. But they didn’t sell out. David Byrne does what David Byrne wants to do, and don’t forget it. And never mind the fact that this is Talking Heads’ highest selling album. Double platinum. Never mind that.

The average radio listener will have heard “And She Was” and “Road to Nowhere” done to death, but these are the highlights. Even if the hooks are simple and catchy, the subject matter reminds you that this is still the same band. “And She Was”, according to Byrne is about a “tripped out hippie chick” (if you couldn’t figure that out anyway). “Road to Nowhere” has a delightfully bouncy accordion melody considering the song is about the futility of existence. The paranoia and anxiety is still there, but it is shrouded completely by straightforward major key arrangements.

The twangy country stuff comes in on “Give Me Back My Name” and “Creatures of Love”; sappy and pretty, bringing the image of the pastoral cover art into music. Standard pop tunes “The Lady Don’t Mind”, “Perfect World” and “Walk It Down” are enjoyable and not at all profound. Special mention goes to the underrated “Television Man”, which features an extend dance-y bridge and call-and-response “na na na na naaa naa”s that are joyful and triumphant! Like the coming of all ye faithful.

This is the beginning of the end for most people, and while I agree with that sentiment, there’s plenty to enjoy here. Don’t be a snob.

True Stories (1986) – Rating: 5/10
No Full Album Review Yet

Talking Heads - True Stories

The story of True Stories is as follows: David Byrne wanted to make a satirical comedy musical film about a man in a cowboy hat who visits a town in Texas that is celebrating its 150th year of independence. He meets people around the town and hears their stores from, among others, a man who never speaks to his wife, a woman who never leaves her bed, a woman who always lies, a man with synesthesia, and a preacher of conspiracy theories. If this movie sounds uninteresting to you, then join the club. I’m never going to see this turd.

Most of the movie’s music was written by Talking Heads, and here’s where we have True Stories the album: a collection of studio recordings of all the soundtrack’s music that was actually performed by the band. The funny thing is, it doesn’t feel like a soundtrack album at all, but maybe because it’s a soundtrack album of songs recorded for a shitty movie, everything here is so straightforward and tame that they could have been written by anyone. Earnest pop music that continues the path set forth by Little Creatures, but watered down to nearly nothing, with the stink of 1986 — the worst year for classic rock — all over it.

Nothing here is irredeemable; a couple of songs are fun as hell. “Love for Sale” is a funky, albeit woodenly so, collection of clichés for the purpose of using in commercials (selling love, of course). “Wild Wild Life” always reminds of of the great outdoors during wintertime, probably because of a cover version used in Cool Runnings, but hey! The lyrics do mention a mountaintop, after all! And “Puzzlin’ Evidence” gets very funky in a blocky, ’80s way. You’ll tap your toes even while thinking that the songs aren’t particularly difficult or substantive.

But the rest of the album kind of sucks. “Papa Legba” would be more interesting if it did literally anything else for six minutes. “Radio Head” has cheery accordion perfect for a hootenanny, but coming from Talking Heads it feels empty and sarcastic. Not to mention “Dream Operator”, which is so pleasant and serious that you wonder if there’s a joke you’re missing out on. Everything is just fine, not exciting. Inoffensive and safe. And kind of boring.

Not their finest hour. The rest of band is really starting to get tired of David Byrne in the worst way, and it’s clear that his lofty projects aren’t sparking the same energy in his bandmates as they used to. But don’t worry. After all, it’s just a soundtrack, right?

Naked (1988) – Rating: 7/10
No Full Album Review Yet

Talking Heads - Naked

We’ve reached the end. Talking Heads as we used to know them will never make a reunion album as long as anyone lives. To this day, there is just too much contention among the band — namely, it’s Frantz and Weymouth vs. Byrne, and it’s mostly one-sided. Nevertheless, this could have been the band’s “Abbey Road”, but instead it’s just the fizzling out of a career that was on its way out anyway.

Not a bad album, though. It’s just unlike the band’s true roots. David Byrne isn’t nervous anymore. In fact, he’s pretty damn confident, and this confidence brings confident melodies, pompous harmonies, and larger-than-life production. The production is so crisp and upfront that it certainly doesn’t feel like an album from the same year that brought us the moody Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation, the Gen-X punk revival of Pixies’ Surfer Rosa, and definitely not the muddy, swampy Nick Cave’s Tender Prey. It sounds like something that came out in the last 10 years, and that’s just one of the attributes that it has going for it.

So why am rating this album higher than both More Songs About Buildings and Food and Speaking in Tongues? Three reasons: 1) Finally, we have intra-album diversity. 2) Melodies are stronger and more fun. 3) “(Nothing But) Flowers” kicks more ass than anything on either of those two albums. There, I said it.

In general, almost all of these songs are at the very least interesting. “Blind” leads on in with powerful, ass-shaking brass. “Ruby Dear” dives us into the bug-ridden muck with the something sinister that will remind you of the old days. “The Democratic Circus” is completely Byrnian political commentary with uneasy, watery guitar picking and slow-burn phrases culminating into menacing crescendos. “Mommy Daddy You and I” follows a family immigrating by bus on a cold, bumpy road driven by minor-key ska accordion. This song is a guilty pleasure, and paints the biggest picture after the genius “(Nothing But) Flowers”. The album closes with “Cool Water”, building slowly and thoughtfully on a calm, “speaking” singing style. A fitting end for a long, legendary career.

Stylistically, it doesn’t feel like Talking Heads. But so what? The songs are mostly good, and the album is entirely underrated. Give me this over Speaking in Tongues any day of the week.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2), Issue #3 – “Zodiac (Part 3)”

* Part 3 of 8 of the Zodiac storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3 – “Zodiac (Part 3)”! In the previous installment, a few Avengers try to beat up Taurus with very little success. They discover what’s in the time capsule: a nullifier! A thing that erases reality! Why are the Zodiacs playing around with such a thing, are they nuts? YES!

The Zodiacs think the Avengers stole the nullifier from them, which is technically true actually. The Zodiacs showed up to kick their asses. I hope they succeed, this Avengers team is bush league.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2), Issue #3 [July, 2012]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Zodiac (Part 3)”

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2), Issue #3

Look at the cover, the Avengers are ready to fight! For their right! To party! Meh.

So these Zodiac dudes hover menacingly over the Avengers. Thor takes the reigns, six feet shorter than any member of the Zodiac clan. “Hear me, Zodiac. I am Thor, son of Odin. You will stand down and surrender. Or you will feel the mighty wrath of the Avengers assembled.”

Yeah, that’s going to do it. A few Zodiacs kindly remind these blowjobs that it only took one of them to almost kill a whole lot of ya. So can it. Leo is starstruck by the Hulk, but then flings him right out of a window of their starship with a sickening “KRABOOM”. You know it’s sickening because the O’s are bigger than the rest of the letters! That’s my interpretation.

Ah, ok, the sky craft is called a helicarrier, which isn’t a real thing according to the red squiggly line under my unnamed word processing software that I use to write this stuff up (and I’m not going to namedrop the company because I don’t want Bill Gates to get anymore publicity! whoops). The commander instructs her officers to do what it takes to keep this hunk of metal aloft and hope that the Avengers don’t suck ass.

Black Widow carries the lunchbox that contains the Ultimate Nullifier. It seems like she’s planning to leap out of the helicarrier? What’s her super power again? Not flying? Okay!

The Zodiacs wake up and take action!

“Did I miss the part where they told us who they are and what they are up to?” Hawkeye asks himself while leaping toward Leo with a dagger, which I didn’t think bow-and-arrow man would have on his person. But, if I learned anything from Skyrim, it’s that… yeah, you get it.
“Just die!” yells Leo, “That would be plenty!”
“Dude, you’re hurting my feelings,” says Hawkeye, always the cutup.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3

huff puff oh god oh god gotta get out of here gotta get out of here huff puff puff

Black Widow is booking it through the empty corridor, probably smug in her aloneness. BUT NOT FOR LONG, because Aquarius pops in to send a million gallons of water flooding through the corridor. Black Widow hangs onto the box tightly while getting swept up in the torrent.

Tony Stark, shirtless and definitely not in his Iron Man costume, tries to reason with the assailants. “Guys, guys, guys…come on,” he whines feebly. Then he starts trying to bribe them, lol. Kind of neutered when you don’t have your suit, huh?

But, hey, they do stop in their tracks with mild interest. Money, huh?

“I want you off this ship. What will it take?” Stark asks, confidence building.

Captain America takes advantage of the sudden respite by smacking a Zodiac lady right in the fucking kisser with his shield.

Ha ha, though. Tony Stark was just goofing around! He just needed to stall so that his Iron Man suit could go online! Hahahaha! The wifi is connected, bitches! Google THIS: *punch*

The battle is heated now. Avengers punching Zodiacs! A to Z, as it were! A full-page spread of this cockamamie pissing contest. “HAVE AT THEE!” Thor yells, then a FAKOOM of a hammer hitting a lion face, then an “ARGH!” Go get ‘em, heroes! WOOP WOOP WOOP!

Uh huh. And even Hawkeye breaks the fourth wall by saying “Faboom” before he shoots off a bottle rocket, or something, and hits another Zodiac in the face! FABOOMM!

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3

Yeah yeah yeah, what else is new?

Hulk, as you can see, somehow makes it back into the helicarrier. Perhaps he landed on a carefully placed trampoline and bounced his ass back up? Well, he goes down again, and this time he takes Leo with him. “What are you doing?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Leo screams as they both plummet.

They land in the water near a beach, and they’re close enough to the beach that there’s no way that water is any more than five feet deep. No broken bones here, though, this is a comic book! For children! Hulk grips a terrified Leo by the neck while underwater and launches him on the beach, scaring the hell out of a group of innocent bonfire enjoyers. Possibly killing a handful like Putin just struck another Ukrainian grocery store.

Hulk continues to really pummel the unholy crap out of this lion while demanding answers for the following: who are you, what do you want, have you watched the fourth season of Stranger Things, and why are you people attacking them? Leo is probably like “what do you mean YOU people, but he holds his tongue as now is probably not the time.

Aquarius has stopped the flood for now, but he’s lost Black Widow. That’s because she found a small vent to sexily crawl through.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3

Yeah, well, your charms may work on Daredevil’s blind ass, but not the likes of me. That’ll learn ya.

Captain America is getting tired. They need a better plan fast. The Zodiac has *counts on fingers, gets to ten and starts drooling* …more than ten of them!

Iron Man says duh.

The guy with the Libra symbol is wondering why Aquarius is taking so long to steal the big lunchbox from the one lady. “Let’s just crash this whole ship!” he suggests. I think that idea is capital, personally. You can crash it right into Professor Xavier’s stupid X-Men school!

Uh oh, that sounds like bad news bears, sir. Captain America radios the helicarrier commander to abandon the ship, but the commander is like “no fucking way, dummy”. The craft is staying in the air where it belongs! It’s going to stay in the air for 47 years if she has her way!

Thor, meanwhile, is getting nervous. He’s a GOD! How are these dudes putting up such a fight? “That’s the thing,” responds Libra Man, “we know everything about you and you don’t know a damn thing about us.” BUT, Thor saves face by pointing out that the Zodiacs have the power, but he can see the fear on their faces. They lack the skill. So give up while you still can, and your mercy will be generous. Something to that effect; it sounds like a bluff to me.

Then stuff explodes on the helicarrier. Stuff also explodes outside of the helicarrier! A menagerie of explosions. A veritable cavalcade of blow-’em-ups.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3

♫♩ Whooooo are you? Who who? Who who? ♫♬♩ ♫♩

There’s still some more Hulk/Lion fighting on the beach. Leo’s getting his ass handed to him, to the point where he clutches his chest and yells “muh heart!”, then collapses. He returns to his original, ugly semi-human form. The possession entity flows out of him as bright golden wisps, ascending to the heavens! Hulk looks up with placid confusion. In other words, he looks up as normal.

Iron Man has been found through another helicarrier window, leaving maybe two windows still intact. He passes through the wisps of shiny goldenness and asks his Metroid suit what it is. “Scanning. Unidentified.”

Well, what good are you, you dumb suit? Tony Stark is going to crush it into a cube when he gets home, make no mistake.

Other Avengers are still beating up other Zodiacs. Yawn. Oooh! Ok, the helicarrier officers are making their way down the scary red corridor. Acting Commander Maria Hill has security clearance to access the armory… but so does someone else! That would be Black “Natasha” “Moose and Squirrel” Widow “Romanoff” already hanging out in the armory being volatile and weird.

Avengers Assemble (Vol. 2) Issue #3

That’s right, bitches. I gots me a bigger gun.

The officers ask Black Widow to assess the situation for them. Here’s an assessment for you: shit sucks. The officers want to call for backup. Some real military troops. Black Widow says that Captain America doesn’t wanna. He wants to find out more about these Zodiacs first. And why should anyone listen to him? The dude can’t even tie his own shoes.

Iron Man pops in with some information. The 4-1-1. The skinny. The infoglut. The dirt. The spiel. “It’s unidentifiable,” he mutters. Well that’s just FUCKING great, Mr. Useless. Go be useless somewhere else, you useless bum.

Oh, the unidentifiable power source is currently being transmitted and examined as we speak? Ok… well… uh… yeah, good job. Thank you. Sorry. But hurry up!

They walk toward Nick Fury’s old car, which happens to be parked on the helicarrier I guess. That will surely be explained soon.

Hulk returns to the fray, as Thor puts it, “sans opponent”. This is a good sign! The bad guys aren’t going to win today! HA HA HA HAAAA!! *hammer*

Hawkeye suggests that Hulk can make short work of all the Zodiacs while he takes a nap.

Aquarius also returns to the fray, as I will put it, “sans Nullifier”. Waterboy just assumed Black Widow would’ve circled back to the fight with the lunchbox. That seems like a dumb thing to do, though. That’s probably why it didn’t happen!

“AVENGERS, DISASSEMBLE,” commands Black Widow as she and a couple officers fly into the scene with Nick Fury’s Back to the Future II futuristic flying car. Then there’s an unexplained inferno swirling around the vicinity. The Zodiacs smile within the flames devilishly. The Avengers stare stunned. “Where’re the powers?” Black Widow asks.

Iron Man knows what’s going on! And even after he explains it, the rest of them still don’t know what’s going on. Basically, Iron Man confirms that none of these Zodiacs are pulling the strings. Someone else is in command here…

A bright blue ball of light descends from the sky. Great, more stuff happening. Why is there always stuff happening around here? But, with a big-ass FRAKABOOM, the ball of light smashes into the helicarrier and shakes, rattles, and rolls that sucker.

The blue ball of light takes the form of stupid-looking X-Man-looking villain-looking kind of guy. He’s blue, has an overbite, and skimpy armor covering, among a short list of other areas, his genitals.

“You Earthers have stumbled into the affairs of THANOS, Warrior of Death. You have angered me and brought me to you. Because of that, I will end your world.”

It’s Thanos. It’s Josh Brolin.

Final Thoughts

Fuckin’ Thanos, always getting angered and involved and threatening to destroy Earth. What a broken record.


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The Eye of the World (Book 1) – Prologue: “Dragonmount”

The Wheel of Time - Book 1 - The Eye of the World

I’ve owned this book for over ten years! Time to crack open this bad boy and see what all the fuss is about!

Two characters are introduced: Lews Therin, Kinslayer, a sad shell of a man who used to be a notorious bigwig, but now he shambles around a castle during what seems to be the middle of a supernatural earthquake… but instead a mountain is created out of nowhere. I think. It seems weird.

Elan Morin, some sort of anti-Lews who is clad in black and appears in the prologue only to ridicule and get angry at the sad shell of a man. From what I gather, he appeared in a mirror. Perhaps he is some sort of literal reflection of Lews Therin?

Lews is looking for his wife Ilyena Sunhair, a golden-haired woman with Hair like the Sun, as it were. She lies dead next to Lews and it takes him about 45 minutes to notice.

Good thing there’s a glossary in the back, because there is already a barrage of unknown phrases and titles thrown at me:

  • Elan Morin uses the name Shai’tan in vain — “Dark One“. Directly saying his name draws his attention. It invites “ill fortune”, meaning he’ll cause you to spill coffee all over yourself. Most people say other things instead. Kinda like calling Voldemort “You-Know-Who”, I suppose. There, that’s my first Harry Potter reference already. God, I suck.
  • Lews Therin draws power from the True Source — The driving force of the universe that powers the Wheel of Time. There’s a male half, with a penis, called “saidin”. There’s a female half, with a vagina, called “saidar”. They work simulateneously against each other, just like in real life! Ha! Only men can draw upon saidin, since they have penises. Women for saidar. However, since the beginning of time, saidin has been tainted by the Dark One (Shai’tan! See, I remembered something!). I’ll obviously find out why in about six more books.

There are other things to know, I guess. Lews was once the wearer of the Ring of of Tamyrlin. He sat in the High Seat, first among the servants. He once summoned the Nine Rods of Dominion. He defeated Elan Morin at the Hall of Servants and Gates of Paaran Disen! He was the Dragon, man! The Dragon.

Elan tries to heal Lews of his obvious demented Alzheimer’s, but this causes Lews immense pain. He returns the favor by hiding himself in a giant mountain. If any of this sounds horribly misinterpreted, go fuck yourself. I have 54 actual chapters to read of this shit and I have a job and life, you know.

And you just read the first installment of my giant Wheel of Time read. It’s going to be pretty much like this every time. If you find that at all enjoyable, then I pity you immensely! Haha. But seriously, please come back for more.


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Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1 – “The Visitation”

* Part 1 of 6 of the Blood storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1 – “The Visitation”!

Enough Batman. Enough Superman. Enough men for now, for reals. I’ve ignored Wonder Woman for far too long. She is arguably just as important to DC’s history as either of the other two aforementioned blowjobs. She made her official comic book debut in 1941 and got her own title in 1942, and this was a time when women were basically still considered personal property somewhere on the tier between a refrigerator and a lawnmower.

I barely know anything about Wonder Woman except for her magic truth lasso, her Xena Warrior Princess Amazonian roots, and that Gal Gadot might be slightly racist. I hope to rectify this by digging into the highly-acclaimed New 52 reboot. By that I mean rectify my knowledge gaps, not Gal Gadot’s racist leanings. I won’t be able to solve that by sitting on my ass reading comic books.

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1 [November, 2011]
Written by: Brian Azzarello
“The Visitation”

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

Fuckin’ A, man! Look at that cover! Raw fucking feminity! Blood-spattered aggression! Jumping straight into a barrage of arrows! Uppercutting one into splinters! This is more like it!

Singapore. The issue begins in Singapore. That’s not very Amazonian. Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m no scholar of world geography, but Singapore is in a whole different continent altogether! Three women are on a balcony of a very tall building that overlooks the bustling, urban sprawl of the capital city. “How did you get this room?” one asks. “My job,” answers the thus far unseen man, “Calls for me to be on top of the world.”

Already sounds like an asshole! An asshole that’s going to murder three women in Singore. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it EXCEPT shut this comic book forever… Let’s keep reading.

When asked what this man does, he tells the women that he’s the “sun of a King”. This dude, now visible, looks like he’s made of steel. He has eerie glowing eyes and equally eerie glowing mouth. These women must all be trashed, perhaps roofied, perhaps on fentanyl. They’re all on fentanyl.

Glowey’s dad gets around. He appreciates faithfulness, sure, but the dog gets around. He has fucked many women, which are my words of course, but the implication is that Glowey is just one of very many. “Like I said, he gets around. And where he’s gotten to now, I need to find out. See, he’s missing.”

He claims that they’re all on top of the tallest building in the world! And even in 2011 that’s a complete fucking lie, but I’m not here to split hairs. No building in Singapore even came close! But I’m not here to split hairs! But Jesus Christ, I’m already mad! Someone could have looked that shit up, man!

Anyway, yada yada yada, he grabs the three of them all at once and does something menacing and scary off-panel. MOVING ON.

Now we’re in Virginia, a place that’s fractionally as exotic as Singapore, in a barn no less, where a glowing woman wearing a hooded robe made out of peacock feathers ambles through and scares the cows. She leaves behind several weapons on the floor: bow and arrow, knife, sword, spiked mace, stuff we all carry with us from time to time.

After kindly petting a horse, she grabs a scythe down from the wall.

She feels the sharpness of the blade. It seems to be of adequate sharpness for her pursuits.

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

Ah yes, this will replace my Slap Chop nicely.

This lady swings that fucker right at the horse’s neck, lopping it off completely. The head falls near the abandoned weapons.

From the horse’s neck stump, a creature emerges looking like an H. R. Giger alien. It’s weird and gross. Definitely more exotic here than Singapore, as it turns out.

Presumably, on the same farm, a very bony man wearing what looks like either Vietnam war gear OR African elephant hunter garb steps into a farmhouse. He finds a young, short-haired blonde woman, in her underwear, pointing a shotgun at his face.

“Zola, we must leave now,” he says.
“We? Make that you, Mister. I don’t know how you got in here–”
“–Listen to me, girl– They’ve come for you and your child.”
“Who?”
“Assassins.”

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

“House” is being a little too generous, honestly.

Nuts to this! Who wants some weirdo barging in and telling you that assassins are gonna come getcha?

The sound of approaching horse hooves clomp-clomping is worrisome! Vietnam War Elephant Hunter shoves the young woman out of the way of the open front door just in time to catch a bellyful of loosed arrow with a sickening “THUK”. This dude has bird feet. This bird dude got thukked.

His body slams on the floor in front of the terrified young woman. He looks to be still alive, possibly grasping at the arrow to pull it out, but I can’t tell! Comic book pictures aren’t animated! This ain’t Harry Fuckface Potter!

We catch a full-page glimpse of the assailants rushing into the house. Two of them, one male and one female. They look like angry, demonic centaurs! The kind you’d find in Harry Fuckface Potter. They’re wearing armor that look like chastity belts. They’ve got a bunch of scary weapons, and they’re gonna split this lady in half with a giant sword.

“ZOLA!” yells Vietnam War Elephant Hunter Bird and tosses her an ordinary key. But it’s no ordinary key! Sorry for leading you on like that. It’s a magical glowing key that fills the room with a bright, blue light. Zola holds it up above her…and then disappears. The sword hits the empty ground with a CHOK. As in, CHOK full of fantastic sound effects.

Zola has been transported! She appears, or apparates, if you will (harry fuckface potter), into an apartment or a hotel room in London. Still sitting on the floor, bewildered, she stares at a bed with a depressed-looking naked woman. Zola thinks she’s sleeping. Zola gets that part wrong.

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

WONDER WOMAN TO THE RESCUE!!

This wonderful woman, a wonder of a woman, I don’t know who she is yet! I wonder what kind of woman she is? She calms down once she realizes this 80-pound woman isn’t going to hurt her, and she assures Zola that she won’t kill her. That’s polite.

After Zola stammers and stutters nonsense about “a man with eyes”, she is asked how she got in here. “The man threw me this key,” she responds, displaying the extraordinary object. The woman with the dark, flowing hair goes “?” and then demands that Zola relinquish the key.

Fuck that, lady! They saved her life! She’s not gonna give it up now, goddamnit! There’s all sorts of situations where it would be useful to be suddenly transported to strangers’ homes in other parts of the world in the middle of the night!

The woman introduces herself as Diana, and she wants to help, but she doesn’t really look to me like she wants to help that much. “I can take that key right out of your hand,” she says, hefting her nude body over to a cabinet full of Wonder Woman clothes and accessories, “but I’d prefer if you gave it to me willingly.”

Zola starts looking kind of shifty. Maybe she thinks she could kick this lady’s ass if the opportunity presented itself. That thought is quashed quickly as Wonder Woman puts on her Wonder Woman outfit. “YOU’RE WONDER WOMAN?” she exclaims to Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman tells her to call her Diana, and now that she has gotten all these clothes on in order to prove that she’s wonder woman, please hand over the fucking key.

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

Wonder Woman appears to be 9’8” tall. That’s two stacked Danny DeVitos!

So Zola hands over the fucking key, but Wonder Woman makes sure to hold onto Zola’s arm first. With a flash, they’re transported back to Zola’s farmhouse. ”YEEAARGH!” screams an individual within the house, possibly Birdguy Jones, the “man with the eyes” as it were.

The two women slowly approach the house. A bloody feather wafts through the doorway…followed by a speedy arrow. The cover lied to me! I was promised a veritable HAILSTORM of arrows! Not one piddling arrow! Wonder Woman leaps in front of it and blocks it with her steel wristbands, splintering it into pieces. My hero!

“You want us to tell you what we see?”
“Dear ladies, you are my oracles, my eyes that gaze on what is yet to be… Please tell me…what you see.”
“There is a storm gathering just beyond the horizon and the one responsible shall rule in fire…Sorry about that.”
“Who is it?”
“Too much smoke.”
“What?”
“We can’t see clearly.”
“It wears a crown of horns. And a cape of blood flowing from its shoulders onto a naked woman at its feet.”
“The feet?”
“They’re bare, like the woman.”
“Then it is my family.”
“Your family… is broken, beated, and betrayed. By blood.”
“Tell me something I don’t know…”
“Well, your father has abandoned fate to someone who can blow away the smoke if they choose to. Seriously, this is mental.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We mean that what your father wants is nothing anyone should. It’s dirty. It’s irredeemable. And it won’t end good for you.”

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

Where do you think Ted Lasso learned everything he knows! Ha! That’s a pun that works on half a level.

That previous exchange? Alternating dialogue boxes, one green and one black, that bounce between flowery poetry and casual conversation. I don’t know yet who these two are. During this dialogue, the two angry, demonic, Harry Fuckface Potter centaur-like creatures ambush the two women. Zola runs the hell away while Wonder Woman does all manner of neck thigh-crushin’ on the male centaur. The female centaur chases Zola down with a knife and hungry look on her face. Wonderful Wondrous Woman bends up, KRAKs the male with a headbutt, and steals his sword. The female grabs Zola by the scruff and starts running off with her. Wonder Woman flings the sword from 20 yards away and dismembers the female centaur’s arm, thereby releasing Zola from her grasp. Zola, on ground, watches the two centaurs book it on out of there.

That’s when she gets lassoed! And so ends the LEAST dull action sequence I’ve come across in over a year of reading comic books. Huge compliment. That was fun.

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

Whoops, you want Jeff Bezos. Look up in the sky, someone launched the fucker into space.

“I thought I told you to stay close,” Wonder Woman chides with the wryest of grins! What a cut-up. This young woman has been irreversibly traumatized in only the last 15 minutes and Wonder Woman thinks she’s fucking hilarious!

I forgot all about this guy! Birdbeak the Mighty. He’s not dead even though it seems like he should be, taking an arrow in the gut and all. It’s still in his gut, too. He lumbers out of the house. “You shouldn’t be here,” he huffs and pants and puffs and rants, “Take the girl and run to the end of the Earth.” Uh-huh, Earth is a sphere, nimrod. You’re not one of those people, are you?

Birdman removes the arrow from his stomach. It’s covered in blood. You’re not supposed to do that. Leave it in and go to a dang emergency room, ya turkey.

“HERMES!?” Wonder Woman yells at the bird. The bird is named Hermes.
“Diana…” he responds, dying of arrow gut perforation, “Protect her…or the queen will see her dead.”

Hermes asks what they’ve done to him. Wonder Woman says the impossible has been done to him. Right now, if I were Zola, I’d be slowly sneaking away from all this drama. Rent a hotel room or something.

I looked up “Hermes” on Google and got a lot of herpes-related information, which is fantastic to have on my work laptop’s search history. Basically, he moves fast. He’s like the Roman god Mercury, except he’s Hermes. I hope that cleared things up.

Anywho, Hermes is dying but he’s also not. Zola is important to protect even if she doesn’t know it yet. The “baby” that Hermes referred to about ninety pages ago and Zola didn’t really give another thought? Well, Hermes has her attention now so he drops the big ol’ bomb on her: she’s pregnant with Zeus’ baby! Ohhhhh snap! Ha ha ha looool.

Back in Singapore, where Mr. Glowey possessed these three lovely ladies (presumably to get information out of them), it is learned that NOT only will “she kill one of them”, whatever that means, but also…well, here’s the panel:

Wonder Woman (Vol. 4), Issue #1

One of your father’s brother’s cousin’s daughter’s cousin’s aunt’s nephew’s cousins will also get his penis caught in a Venus flytrap.

So Father’s pulling the strings again, is he? Where is the deadbeat these days?

“He doesn’t exist.”
“Yet.”

Glowey starts emanating flames from his person, catching the three floating women on fire. They char up nicely into three burning skeletons.

“Fascinating,” says Glowey as he burns a bright yellow and flies up into the sky.

The three women become a flaming pile of falling bones.

Final Thoughts

Well that’s pretty fucked up, innit? Lots of setup, lots of intrigue, lots of…mythology? BORING!

Here’s what I noticed in this issue: there’s about 60 goddamned panels with women’s bare feet. Looks like I know what artist Cliff Chiang is into. Great. That’s great.


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