PUP, Rosalie Cunningham, and black midi

Hey, it’s been a while! Now that the last quarter of 2022 is upon us, I want to try scooping up whatever releases from this year that I can while I still have time. That’ll work wonders, I’m sure of it!

For now, here are 2022 releases from PUP, Rosalie Cunningham, and black midi. I hope to keep this going on a weekly basis again for the rest of the year, but I’ve never been an optimist in my life and I’m certainly not going to start now.

PUP – THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND
(April 1, 2022)

PUP - THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND

This is assuredly not as chaotic as the STUCK CAPS LOCK BUTTON TITLE and the complete ugly mess of the album cover might lead you to believe! That in of itself is kinda disappointing, but the music is good and you should listen to this good music.

I don’t know much about PUP. I get Modern Baseball or Joyce Manor vibes from them (somewhere in between, maybe); pop punk that’s not emo enough to make me hate them immediately, which is already a feather in their cap. Plus, the band seems to be making a career out of self-aware meta-punk, which I can get behind wholeheartedly. If this is considered “unravelling”, then they still have far to unravel. At least musically. Lyrically, I suppose that’s another story.

The record begins with a spoken-word piano ballad intro “Four Chords” (with reprises popping up a couple more times throughout) where the PROTAGONIST, lead singer Stefan Babcock, is annoyed with dealing with his record label board of directors. Later, Babcock tells the board that he’s not tuning the fucking vocals. Later, conceding in the nine-second third installment of “Four Chords”, he says the board of directors are almost finished making the record. I think the band has earned this weariness with the music industry by now, twelve years and four albums into their career. This weariness is lifted up by music that isn’t weary at all, though. Babcock sings “Lately, I’ve started to feel like I’m slowly dying” on the noisy, riff-heavy and melodic “Totally Fine”. He sings “My system’s crashing now/My drive is shutting down” on the not-so-robotic “Robot Writes a Love Song”. From the point of view of his own forgotten guitar, he sings “Thought I was everything you need/Thought at least you’d want to see it through” over the pleasing pop punk melody and slightly screechy guitars on “Matilda”. The album is one big therapy session, expressing all the little anxieties, fears, and insecurities clawing at Babcock through the lens of powerful, jangly pop punk!

And like I said before, I’m just relieved that it’s not all emo lyrics over completely emo music. Who cares, right? It would be pathetic. “Cutting Off the Corners” is a total Broken Social Scene-esque indie rock tune. And then, FINALLY, at the very end in “PUPTheBand Inc. Is Filing for Bankruptcy”, I get some sexy squealing saxophone that I adore oh so very much. I would’ve loved more, but beggars can’t be choosers as I always say. Always. I always say that.

PUP stands for “Pathetic Use of Potential”. They get extra points for this too.

Early Verdict:

Rosalie Cunningham – Two Piece Puzzle
(February 22, 2022)

Rosalie Cunningham - Two Piece Puzzle

I didn’t know what to expect with Rosalie Cunningham. Indie rock? Alternative rock? Country? Pop? She’s conventionally pretty enough to be an an accessible American Idol-type mainstream act. She’s only had a solo career since 2017. She’s flying under radars. The album title is humorous. What am I gonna get?

Ah! Prog! That’s interesting, I definitely didn’t expect that. “Start with the Corners” kicks off the album with heavy folky synthesizer melodies; something I’d entirely expect from classic prog rock acts. Yes meets Renaissance with some Jethro Tull sprinkled on like Parmesan cheese. This is a good start.

Well, by the time I got to “The War”, I was sold. There is humor here! It’s merely a soliloquy (“The atom bomb was not enough/Quantum physics had just done it up/So peace was made by one o’clock/And we made fantastic lunch“) before sliding into the aptly named “Duet”. Now this one I really like! Cunningham sings with some dude who sounds like Jack White at his most Jack Whiteness over some oompah blues. It’s like the male/female vocal interplay Paul McCartney’s “Monkberry Moon Delight”. I dig! And then the star track is “Tristeria”, which melds Eastern scales with some of Cunningham’s best singing on the album, showcasing a couple really crunchy, raw blues solos.

By now I’m just happy that the trap of prog rock sterility has largely been avoided, although there are some moments where this creeps in. It’s unfortunately amplified with Cunningham’s immaculately crisp singing. She at least has the humor and edge to rise above needless indulgence, and she obviously doesn’t take herself too seriously. Some of the turns of phrase in the lyrics are clever. And the guitar solos are fairly rough around the edges.

It’s too bad there’s about half of the record left, because nothing new is brought to the table at this point. “Scared of the Dark”, “God Is a Verb”, “Suck Push Bang Blow”, these don’t contain any musical ideas that you haven’t heard already. The album is noticeably top-heavy. Like she ran out of creativity and packed the front half with the best stuff to compensate.

That being said, it’s a net positive. Prog is at its best when you’re not even sure if you should call it prog or not. Extra points.

Early Verdict:

black midi – Hellfire
(July 15, 2022)

black midi - Hellfire

I’ve liked the idea of black midi’s existence since their 2019 debut Schlagenheim. Lead vocalist Geordie Greep has a distinct, nasally, weird voice (and a weird name, honestly). Drummer Morgan Simpson is, like, a child prodigy or something, having been playing the drums extensively since he was two years old. They have a unique take on post-punk music that has certainly evolved over time into a slurry of aggressive avant-prog and sprechgesang-laden diatribes.

I liked Schlagenheim well enough as a fun combination of Steve Albini-style ramblings and David Yow-style raving, but I was never totally hooked. As you might remember, since you follow this blog religiously and re-read my entire body of work on a weekly basis, I wasn’t bowled over by their sophomore effort Cavalcade. Too many slogs to make up for the moments of brilliance, in my opinion, and not nearly enough of what I liked about the debut.

Third time’s the charm, right? Hellfire moves in yet another direction. Crisp virtuosity! Crunchy hooks! Gifts that keep on giving with every listen! Greep is in rare form with his vocals. The first track — the title track — is a short and sweet, nervous symphonic build with Simpson’s military cadence chugging throughout. And Greep is a spitfire here, presenting a laundry list of hypochondria and existential futility, cramming about 300 words into a minute and a half (and “Hellfire” isn’t even the most impressive example of this happening). Track 2, “Sugar/Tzu”, showcases the other side, the antithesis, of the Greep coin: syrupy crooning. OK, “syrupy” is a poor word to describe Greep’s weird-ass voice, but he does a lot of this lounge-jazz stuff throughout Hellfire too. And it’s always over music that doesn’t quite fit; these herky jerky guitar exercises and avant-prog polyrhythms and odd time signatures. Sinatra over a flurry of arpeggios and Henry Mancini crescendos. But it works! It works so well! And Simpson gets to beat his kit to death in the meantime, which I’m sure he loves to do.

Tracks like “Welcome to Hell” and “The Race Is About to Begin” flexes some of that cartoon circus prog, which is one of my own personal weaknesses. The latter contains the single most impressive part of the album: two minutes of rapid-fire spoken word that could put most seasoned rappers to shame. If you think I’m exaggerating, fucking listen to it. I don’t know what any of it is about. At all. I couldn’t even guess. But it’s highly thrilling all the same.

More to say? Hell yeah, more to say. Well, one more thing to say. “Still” is my favorite track, blending tightly arranged passages of cinematic tension with pretty ukelele/piano conversations, Ennio Morricone trumpets, Zappa-esque moods that shift on a dime, and Greep dialing it down completely. He sings like that dork from Yo La Tengo!

Album of the Year material? You better believe it. This will be the one to beat.

Early Verdict:


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Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23 – “Responsible”

* Part 2 of 6 of the Legacy storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23 – “Responsible”! In the previous installment, Harry Osborn’s back in town and it’s hella sketchy! Daddy Osborn’s back, too! He’s alive! Everything’s fiiiiiiiiinnnee!! It’s not strange at all!

So Parker gets invited to the Osborn abode, where Harry acts shifty and weird while Parker gets extremely nervous and sweaty.

He’s right to be nervous. Don’t be sweaty, though, that’s gross. Norman Osborn’s been reviewing the footage of Spider-Man kicking the Octopus’ ass for days. Days and days. And he’s tired of this Spider-Man shit. It’s going to stop now, or his name ain’t the Green Goblin.

*turns into the Green Goblin*

See?

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23 [August, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Responsible”

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

For the first time in 23 issues, I get a large recap page that not only tells me who the characters are, but I also get what amounts to a novel explaining everything in tiny print! It’s like “oh yeah, some of this shit happened so long ago that you have forgotten you were even reading Ultimate Spider-Man instead of, say, L. Ron Hubbard’s Mission: Earth.

Flipping around town in the dead of night like a stringy weasel, Spider-Man finds a sanctuary at the top of a random building. He rips off his mask, hyperventilates, wheezes, and sniffs. “Oh God! What am I going to do?”

Cut to 12 minutes ago, where Norman “Second-Rate Hulk” Osborn leers over Parker with hungry dominance.

“Dad, it’s here!!” Harry Osborn yells through the closed doors. “Be right there, Harry!” yells the Green Goblin back sweetly.

“Aw, poor Harry. Everyone around him has a little secret identity and he has no clue about any of it,” Goblin muses. Parker attempts to scooch back while Marjorie Goblin Green yammers about his ignorant son and his dumb, dead wife. So similar, except Harry’s mother deluded herself with scotch while Harry just needs intense rounds of hypnosis to keep him in a foggy haze! Heh heh! Cool that he’s telling Parker all this. He could just, like, not talk. Superheroes have an easier time thwarting their enemies if they know a lot. Unless they’re not smart, like Captain America, who failed 2nd grade so many times that they decided to just encase him in ice.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

That sounds awesome, actually. I need to spend a little one-on-one time with Doctor Warren myself.

“A couple of hypnotic suggestions to go along with the memory repression… and I’m finally getting a son I wouldn’t mind taking out in public,” Green Goblin grins gleefully! He pokes himself with the needle, injecting some of that sweet, sweet goblin juice. “Excuse me…ugh– this is the worst part…” he warns Parker, writhing in pain a bit before crumpling behind his desk.

Parker is quiet and terrified, like a girl just talked to him. He inches over to the desk to take a look, and he finds Norman Osborn awake and sweaty on the floor returned to his normal lumpy human form.

Hate it when that happens! Don’t get old, son! Now where was I? Oh yes. My stupid doorknob of a son doesn’t know that you’re Spider-Man yet. It’s our little secret! “Our bond as men. Our first of many, Peter,” Osborn smiles while Parker silently gapes at the creep. Harry keeps yelling for his dad’s attention, but why would Norman Osborne pay attention to his son now? He never has in the past! Time to give Doctor Warren another call soon.

“From this day forward, now and forever, you belong to me,” Osborn coos at Petrified Parker, “You work for me. You do as I say. And for that you will be rewarded.”

Parker’s a lucky boy! He doesn’t have to fly all the way to one of Jeffrey Epstein’s private islands to be sex trafficked!

So listen to Uncle Norman and do everything he tells you to do, even if it doesn’t make any sense, even if he has to fellate his way through a circus of Norman’s lab lackeys. Because if Parker even hesitates for one nanosecond on any of Norman’s commands, Aunt May will be tortured and killed, MJ will be tortured and killed, Kong will sit on you, and other horrible stuff will happen. He’ll work toward canceling all of Parker’s favorite anime shows. He’ll buy every Xbox in the city so that he can’t have one! And then he might murder him too. Or maybe just beat him within an inch of his life.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

It’s just panel after panel of Peter Parker looking scared out of his mind. Delicious.

Does that sound cool, buddy? He’ll break your bones and then break them again after they heal. And then break them again. He’ll do this for the next 160 years. Then he’ll kill you!

OK, good talk!

The thing that Harry said was here is a VHS tape of a Dateline special. Is it about Norman Osborn’s NYC sex trafficking ring? I wish! It’s actually an exposé on Norman Osborn’s mysterious disappearance following a mysterious laboratory blow-em-up and a mysterious fire and, you know, it was all very shrouded in mystery.

It begins with some real admirable Norman Osborn facts. A real innovator in the field of bioengineering! The announcement of Oz, Osborn’s experimental mutagen that…yes of course, created that awful Dr. Oz!…sent Wall Street in a tizzy.

And then a lab exploded and a lot of people died and the supply of Oz disappeared and Norman Osborn disappeared and this fucked up mystery caused a lot of Wall Street panic and then the World Trade Center collapsed and then Chernobyl melted down and then Hiroshima blew up and then the Elon Musk farted and here we are today.

No answers.

No nothing.

UNTIL TONIGHT! BA-DOO-BE-DA-BA-DOOOOO!!!

“Tonight for the first time anywhere Norman Osborn, alive and well, speaks. He has come out of hiding, out of self-made retirement, to speak about the fateful night that destroyed his life.”

Norman watches smugly. Harry watches with awed interest. Parker watches all sweaty and constipated.

The long and short of Norman’s side of it is this: the explosion of his facility was devastating to him. He concludes that his competitor, Justin Hammer, was directly responsible for the explosion and for the death of his wife. And now that Hammer is as dead as a Carradine after a wild evening in Thailand, Norman feels safe to come back out into society with his penis-stroking son of his.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

He’s a good friend, Harry. Do you want to invite him to Little St. James?

So all those reports of Dr. Otto Octavius being involved with Hammer’s death? Norman hasn’t spoken to the squishy octopus man at all since the explosion, so he has no idea about his thoughts, motivations, daily flossing habits, or his frequent purchases from many websites of lewd offerings. However, he MUST HAVE come to the same conclusion as Osborn: Hammer was out to destroy their lives.

Without even so much as one word, Parker gets out of there. A fetid, sweaty mess. Again, this was all in the span of twelve minutes and now he probably feels like he’s pooping his stomach right out of his butt.

He slinks home mopey; has to tell Aunt May that his tummy hurts and spending time with his friend Harry was a real lousy-ass time. Aunt May apologizes for making him go in the first place. Parker apologizes for lying to her on Saturday night. She understands. She was a teenager once too. Granted, it was 500 years ago, but she still remembers some of it. Possibly.

He hugs her. She’s taken aback! 15-year-olds don’t hug their aunts! But hey, it’s nice to have her old Peter back. It almost makes up for his involvement in her husband getting murdered!

So, with that crumbling relationship all patched up with scotch tape for now, Parker retires to his untidy basement quarters and contemplates his grim future. As he sits at his desk with his face buried in his hands, MJ calls him up for a booty call. Yeah baby.

“What happened? What’s going on? What happened with Harry? Did you go over there? Was it all weird? Did he say anything about anything?” MJ fires away questions with that wide smile and the devilish glint in her eye.

Parker needs to talk in person, but it’s almost 11pm on a school night. He needs to tell the only person he can trust who also knows he’s Spider-Boy.

Too bad he’s interrupted by a knock on the cellar door. He thinks it’s Harry, but it’s not.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

This town is just lousy with pretty blonde teenagers creeping around yards and peering into basements. Release the hounds.

Gwen Stacy is wearing a shirt that says “COLD!” even though she doesn’t look cold. If she was cold then she’d be wearing a shirt that’s longer than her underboob. “Wanna buy some girl scout cookies?” she asks Parker after he opens the doors, “No, then is it ok if I kill myself on your front lawn?”

A woman after Parker’s heart, this one. I just noticed that Peter Parker is wearing a Cartman shirt! That’s worth a screengrab.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

You can’t be here, Gwen! Respect my authoritah!

“I’ll call you back,” Park tells MJ against her wishes. She stares at her phone wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Sorry I ruined your phone sex,” Gwen tells him with her back turned, enticing him with her ass. Parker’s wearing boxers. This is not a good time to be 15.

Parker runs up to his Aunt May’s room in a panicky haze.

“Yes, you’re allowed to use the phone, but it’s after ten so–”
“No, I got a– I got a problem.”
“What’s up?”
“There’s– there’s a girl in my basement.”
“A real one?”

Burn!

It had better not be MJ, kiddo, or Aunt May will hang you from the rafters by your own dick. But, no, there’s a girl in his basement who he doesn’t want there. So cool it, old lady. It’s this weird new girl who he barely knows and she apparently ran away from home and she seems suicidal and her ass looks GREAT but he’s not in the mood to really have fun with that right now and it’s been a long fucking day so oh my god can you just intervene?

Aunt May’s a good sport. Even though it’s pushing midnight, she makes eggs for Gwen. Shortly, Captain Stacy shows up at the door. He and May give each other the ol’ “fuck me” eyes before he expresses his gratitude for her briefly taking care of Gwen in these odd circumstances.

And that’s that. Everything is wrapped up in a nice little package with a pretty bow and–

Oh yeah, MJ. Uhhhh…well, Parker is completely honest with her the next day at school. Kid has really grown up in the last 20 issues! I’m proud of my homeboy here.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #23

Yeah, well, there was a little bit of hanky and a little bit of panky to be had.

MJ is still unsettled. Why, of all places, did Gwen show up at his house? And he didn’t bother to call back once Aunt May got involved? What’s up with that shit?

“Listen, I need to tell you something more important than any of this,” Parker says, not reassuring MJ whatsoever, and then he’s about to go into his whole anxiety about how and why he filled his pants with diarrhea while at the Osborn house…and then Gwen pops in from behind to give Parker a giant hug.

“Hey, it’s my own personal superhero,” she gushes, leaping onto his back while MJ recoils. Gwen and Parker chat it up while MJ stands awkward beside the two of them. Gwen thanks Parker effusively and profusely! “Hold on to this one, MJ. Solid gold,” she says, grinning like a baboon. MJ returns her own half-hearted smile.

Gwen leaves. Parker tries to get MJ’s attention again, but the intercom summons Parker to Classroom 222! It’s always something! And Classroom 222 smells.

“I’ll see you after class. I’m not grounded anymore. And I need to tell you something.”

And he bolts. MJ lookin’ butthurt.

Classroom 222 contains Dr. Bradley, the psychiatrist who spoke to the student body after the Green Goblin attack, and she wants to follow-up with him about the Osborns’ return to New York City. She heard he was over at their place last night! From who? Ohhhh, doesn’t matter…anyway, “did Norman Osborn reveal his new abilities to you?” she asks.

For the 50th time in this issue, Parker gets nervous as hell. “Did he threaten you? Did he tell you that he is aware that you are Spider-Man?” Dr. Bradley asks pointedly.

The jig is up. More people know about his secret identity than Parker originally thought. And Dr. Bradley clearly isn’t who she says he is.

“I want to know what’s going on?” Parker yells, thrashing like a spaz.
“Do you want to take it from here, sir?” Dr. Bradley says to someone…or something…else in the room. Something invisible. In front of Parker’s eyes, the room swirls as another entity present in the room makes him or herself known.

“Get outta town…” Parker breathes to himself.

Final Thoughts

What a cliffhanger! Is it Gary Busey? Jermaine Jackson? Rupert Grint? Tila Tequila? Andy Rooney? Wild Bill Hickok?

WE’LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE, WON’T WE?

…

Kirsten Dunst? James Franco?


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East of West, Issue #22 – “A Moment of Silence”

* Part 7 of 14 of the The Apocalypse: Year Two storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #22 – “A Moment of Silence”! In the previous installment, we find out that Doma Lux has the capacity to love and it’s quite unsettling. A flashback from a different perspective, it is revealed that Lux was the one who killed Union representative Peter Graves (and not the pilot from the Airplane! movie) during the diplomatic meeting of the heads of the nations. It’s really quite poetic if, like me, you don’t have a concept of real poetry!

Chief Narsimha travels to the Sea of Bones to gain some perspective after a tense meeting with his council. The Endless Nation shouldn’t be cavorting with the PRA or the Union or anyone! Craziness! They send Lux back home alive with the instruction to feign loyalty as they plan to destroy the White Tower and the Union along with it.

Anyone up for a game of Connect Four? This shit is too bleak! Gotta have some fun once in a while.

East of West, Issue #22 [December, 2015]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“A Moment of Silence”

East of West, Issue #22

“It never stops. The cycle of power, greed, and revenge.”

Yes, yes, yes. Nihilism, defeatism, pessimism. Even I get tired of that once in a while.

“When they come for you, it will be where you feel safest. In your home, in your bed, in your sleep.”

A large freight container zooms in the sky along a river leading to a large city. The docks are loaded up with an unfathomable amount of stacks of containers. Among the stacks, the flying container finds one single empty hole. It nestles in.

An individual with glasses walks along a catwalk high in the stacks with his little Blackberry phone. He finds a secret door in the container, enters it, and sits in a large chair in front of a super-futuristic whiz-bang computer console. He’s swiping stuff around with his fingers on the holographic screen. The 2065 version of Tinder. Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left.

Behind him, a group of men and women in their undergarments start shuffling out of makeshift hole-in-the-wall beds and cots. There’s even a little shower in this room! This is my kind of living, honestly. All I need is a TV loaded up with eight streaming services and freezer full of chicken nuggets and I’m a happy fuckin’ guy!

East of West, Issue #22

Time to kick ass and chew bubblegum! Let’s move move move move move! btw we’re all out of bubblegum.

The computer nerd initiates a countdown sequence that starts at one hour. He gives a thumbs up after the crew behind him puts on their riot ninja gear. The crew MOVES ON OUT OF THERE!

After 13 minutes, the group kills two guards at the House of Mao.

Between 21 and 27 minutes, they scale the curvy, pointy roof of a House of Mao bathhouse and work on cutting through to enter the building. They drop ropes to the floor and scurry down.

One shoots a barrage of ninja stars from his face mask and kills two women in robes. They continue moving through the bathhouse to look for their real target.

They discover a large, empty bed in the middle of a room. Pillows rumpled. Sheets pulled back. They keep moving.

After 41 minutes, they find Xiaolian nude in a spa pool with three servants around the pool’s edge. A ninja dude pulls out his bow and starts launching arrows. The servants leap into the pool for cover, but it’s no use. They die face down in the water while Xiaolian looks up from the bottom of the pool in shock.

As Mr. Bowman slinks around the pool looking for Xiaolian, she leaps up and snaps the dude’s neck with an aggressive twist with her super-strong metal hands. There’s not even a cool comic book onomatopoeia like “SNAP!” or “GRRMPP!” She just twists silently and he’s dead. She looks rather smug about it. She wraps her legs around his neck and flips him backwards into the pool.

East of West, Issue #22

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Modesty.

As to be expected, some Kill Bill happens wherein Xiaolian single handedly takes out these assassins. She stops swords with her impenetrable hands, she kicks and stabs and punches, she has her hella nipples showing. Wholesome action-packed goodness! Bring the kids! Eventually, she shoves the hilt through an assassin’s mouth, breaking his teeth, then shoves the pointy end into his chest.

Two down, four to go. Snapped-neck assassin floats in the pool, which is now completely red with blood, along with the three dead servants. Broken-teeth-stabbed-chest assassin lies crumpled at Xiaolian’s feet.

Xiaolian bends the sword with her strong-ass meathooks and breaks it into two jagged-ended pieces. Two unlucky assassins get the brunt of her quick sword-stabbin’ and hackin’ and slashin’. Now there’s two.

After 52 minutes, which was some Uvalde levels of police incompetence, Xioalian’s guards hussle up and burst down the door.

East of West, Issue #22

Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to interrupt your striptease.

The guards start firing on the two surviving assassins as if the world were ending; as if it were the Apocalypse; as if were the Apocalypse: Year Two (Electric Boogaloo). The assassins haul ass and leap out a window. The guards follow suit.

Landing on the ground and looking behind them, the assassins hesitate as guards up the wazoo land on their feet one by one and train their guns on them.

An assassin lifts his hand, revealing a trigger. The other assassin – the last assassin – heads for the hills. Guards start blasting Mr. Trigger at point blank range, but it’s too late. His thumb had hit the button as his dismembered appendage fell to the ground.

BOOM and whatnot. Then silence. I mean, this whole issue has been silence. Ain’t no talkin’ in this issue. But it’s silent now. You know what I mean.

3 minutes remain.

The last assassin shuffles back to Freight Container HQ where the computer nerd waits. They look at each other for a moment.

With 13 seconds remaining, Computer Nerd takes out the Blackberry phone, which happens to double as a gun, and pulls the trigger.

East of West, Issue #22

I think he’s trying to type “Fair-weather friends, I bid you adieu!”

The only letters we Sunglasses type are shown above. A House of Mao guard storms it right as Sunglasses sends the message. Then he takes the Blackberry gun and shoots himself under the chin.

The recipient of the message (“FAILURE”) is Archibald. He speaks the only words in the whole issue:

“Well now… I’m not gonna lie… This’ll most certainly complicate things.”

Final Thoughts

Woop woop, everyone. Xiaolian not dying is most certainly going to complicate things. I’m not gonna lie.

This marks the very first almost-no-words comic book I have read. I’ve been wondering when that was going to happen.


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Sucky Funnies for September 25, 2022

Welcome yet again to another wonderful fucking Sunday. Oh boy, do I have a “treat” for you! Today’s theme is female leads whose names have five letters!

No Mallard Fillmore today, because screw anyone who associates themselves with Mallard Fillmore. Maybe next week. At least at this moment, if I have to read a duck bitch about reverse racism I’m to flip this table over and shit on Christmas.

Luann

Luann - September 25, 202

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Oh look, the newest copy of Libido magazine just came out! Features include “20 Innovative Ways to Hump Your Pillow” and “Girls: Yes They Poop, How To Stay Attracted”.

Yes, Luann is breaking the fourth wall by commenting that she has been a teenager for the last 24 years. I’ve been a teenager for the last 22 years, man. It feels like it. I’m actually 34, but aren’t we all just perpetual teenagers…

Sorry, I didn’t mean to get pensive and philosophical. Here, let’s take out minds off of these existential problems with one of Libido’s newest features: “Is That Cute Guy Over There Winking at Me, or Does He Just Have Bell’s Palsy?”

Nancy

Nancy - September 25, 202

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If looks could kill, Nancy’s face could level a major metropolitan area. Little does she know that if she decided to make a giant scene in front of her friends, they would most certainly still be thinking about her. She should’ve thrown a giant tantrum, slamming her fists on the floor and smearing pounds of her own feces all over the walls with her face. They literally wouldn’t be able to think about anything else

Instead, Narcissistic Nancy throws her own pity party. No feces involved at all. Nothing has been learned here.

Agnes

Agnes - September 25, 202

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I don’t know much about Agnes, but I get the impression that she’s quite a bit like Marcie from Peanuts in every rip-off way you can imagine. Temperament. Appearance. I don’t know if she calls any female characters “sir”, but if the Frazz guy can completely steal every idea from an actual beloved comic strip, then why not Tony Cochran of Agnes?

It takes a long time to get the punchline, but it’s not worth it whatsoever because it’s really awful. Tony Cochran instead wanted to spend the bulk of his strip’s size limitations shoehorning in his esoteric Bob Dylan opinions! So much so, that he spent exactly two seconds coming up with the “humorous” part. If this is a representative Agnes strip, then I’ll have many more to comment upon in the future.


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Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760 – “…Never-Ending Battle…”

* Part 3 of 9 of the Superman: No Limits collection *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760 – “…Never-Ending Battle…!” In the previous issue of the Superman: No Limits collection, Jimmy almost discovers Clark’s secret identity while visiting Lois and Clark’s apartment, but some quick thinking prevails! No time for that, though! LexCorp stole something from Antarctica near the remnants of the Fortress of Solitude, and Superman finds out that human activity near the area causes WEIRD RIFTS in the WHOOZITS and WUZZAH-WHA! Kryptonian dinosaurs! Rawr!

It was dumb as shit, but he stopped it I suppose.

Also, John Henry Irons showed up to Metropolis with his big dumb suit idea to help their police force. This guy is a total kiss-ass and I hated him in New 52 Action Comics and I hate him now!

So forget all of that, because here in Action Comics we’re gonna get some real action, baby! Guns and fisticuffs! Bar brawls and car chases! Diffusing bombs and flicking cigarettes into a puddles of gasoline, causing major explosions! It’s all here! Presumably.

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760 [December, 1999]
Written by: Joe Kelly
“…Never-Ending Battle…”

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

“Faith gets us through the night when we’re uncertain a dawn will come…it also gives us the Bogeyman bigger, bloodier fangs.” – Clark Kent, Daily Planet, Oct. 1999

Ha, really? What kind of puff piece was Clark writing about here? How did the chief editor let “Bogeyman” pass?

“Today…everything changes! Today, respect! Today, power! Today…METROPOLIS IS MINE!”

And who’s this fanciful, flamboyantly dressed man speaking so exuberantly? Why, it’s Doctor Spectro! He wears large red sunglasses like Bono, he wears a polkadot clown suit, he wears a ridiculous silver belt, and his over-the-top smile reminds me of a manic Tom Cruise.

“I wish I could see them…the insignificant toads who scoffed at my brilliance…who mocked my holographic creations and choice of dress…” he yells like a raving lunatic to himself. Doctor Spectro is on top of a building sending a Superman signal in the sky, like a second-rate Metropolis version of Commissioner Gordon. And, would you look at that, it worked! Superman hath been summoned.

Superman does mock the unoriginality of the Superman-Signal, so at least ACTION COMICS has some self-awareness at the turn of the millennium. “Crack wise while you can, ‘Man of Tomorrow’, for today, your tomorrows are at an end!!” exclaims the very silly Spectro. He’s a very silly man.

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Surprise! Happy Birthday!! Hope you like it!!!

Doctor Spectro came prepared! Superman fell right into his trap! The trap was tricking Superman into being summoned so he could show up and be tricked! Ingenious!

KRYPTONITE!!! As you can see, he delightfully screams this in kryptonite-green letters as the glowing chunk of rock radiates toward the caped dumbass. HA HA HA HA HA HA!!

It doesn’t work. Doctor Spectro is put out very quickly.

“I…uh…oh, please…not the face,” pleads the Good Doctor, humbly conceding a swift defeat.
“All right,” Superman says, crunching the Superman signal into a twisted pile of scrap, “not the face.”

Doctor Spectro sits hunched over with a sourpuss face. He had a celebration for himself prepared! He booked a private room at the club! This was supposed to be his day! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE SUMMER OF SPECTRO!!

Superman grins his toothy grin. Look on the bright side, buddy: you annoyed him for about two minutes! That’s worth something, eh? Chin up!

Plus, are you kidding? A rock spray-painted with green phosphorescent paint? Really? What did you think was going to happen, Sparky? “I mean, it’s not radioactive…it’s not crystalline…and look, see? The paint is flaking off right here…” Superman says, holding the rock in his hand.

Doctor Spectro gets irate now! He was hoodwinked! Swindled, baby! All he got was a mere paperweight! By a “Latin Lotharia”! A real seductress! So help him god he’s going to… he’ll… HE’LL TAKE HER TO COURT!

Superman doesn’t have time for this blubbering shell of a man, but another soon-to-be blubbering shell of man makes his appearance. “Superman!! Your time is up!!”

Yeesh, this day really sucks. A guy wearing a clock head, and his four clock-tunicked cronies, ambush the hero. Two of them are holding glowing rocks at an arm’s length, intending to stymie the superb man.

“Hey…how come he ain’t cringin’ in pain, like the lady said?” asks the one donned in an elaborate cuckoo clock affair.

*laugh track*

*Cosby Show theme*

*Bill Cosby spikes your drink*

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

“E-Mail”? “Cell phones”? You’re talking crazy talk, Lois.

For some reason, Lois Lane likes to spend her coffee breaks standing on top of the Daily Planet building, even though she falls off a building or through a window roughly nine teams per week. Of course, no coffee for her. Clark isn’t allowing it anymore, because, like a woman, she’s been too high-strung and hyper lately as it is. Yes, yes, a few breathfulls of that stank Metropolis air does the job all on its own! Heh heh. *hack* *cough*

Hey, continuity! Perry White told Clark in Superman (Vol. 2), Issue #151 that he was going to give him the job of foreign correspondent as long as it didn’t put a strain on the marriage. And it looks like it’s putting a strain on the marriage!

Keep out of their marriage, you creepy old man. Go home and rub your dick against your mom’s sweaters, ya turkey.

So Clark’s supposed to be in Japan right, and I’m sure he still “is”. As in, it probably takes him seven minutes to fly from Japan to the United States so I’m sure he just excused himself for a bathroom break and booked it across the Pacific Ocean.

Perry White offers Lois to come to his office if things get tough, which sounds incredibly inappropriate to me, but Lois takes it in stride.

Lucky for Lois, Superman hovers right below the extremely low rails of the roof. Low enough to topple over if someone were to just…give her a quick nudge. Too bad Doctor Spectro didn’t think of THAT.

Perry White goes inside. Superman pops up to briefly kanoodle nauseatingly with his wife. He grabs her and they fly away. How romantic. That’s just another Friday for me.

“You’d better take that super-mouth of yours and kiss me with it, Smallville, before I forget why I missed you,” Lois says coyly. Gross. Thinking about skipping ahead. Like, when do they get divorced? I want to start there instead.

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Oh man, one thing that can kill you? Oh, you poor baby. That must be rough, being vulnerable to one single thing that doesn’t even occur on Earth naturally.

Lois asks her hubby if he was afraid of the fake kryptonite. He makes one of his patented 48 IQ faces and delves into a long-winded soliloquy about his personal relationship with the dreaded, loathsome substance! In short…nah. Even though it’s the only thing that can hurt me and there are about 17 billion people on the planet who would use it the first chance they got…nah.

“The only thing I’m ever afraid of when I put on this suit and do my thing… is that I might not see you again,” Superman coos.

Blech. Barf. I’ve got some divorce paper templates drafted up, just say the word.

SUBJECT CHANGE! Lois Lane was poking around this newfangled internet and she may have found the woman who ripped off Doctor Spectro! But she’s not going to tell him just yet! It’s a fun surprise! Tee hee.

Oh snap. I was pretty close with my seven-minute estimate on the trans-Pacific flight from Japan to the United States. It is actually five minutes, my mistake. Sorry, Superman, I hope you forgive my claims that you’re actually a slowpoke of a tortoise.

Clark Kent attends a gala event at the Japanese estate of one Ivan Blackwell, a real smug, ostentatious motherfucker. A real showoff. A big insecure loser.

“I’m a true admirer of your writing, Kent– your fiction as well as your newspaper work,” Blackwell gushes. What an asshole. These two exchange pleasantries for a few moments while Superman screams inside. There’s nothing more he’d like to do right now than follow-up on this hag Lois was talking about, but he’s stuck snooting it up in Japan. This false kryptonite thing is egregious. EGREGIOUS!

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Yo, can’t a fella take a bong hit in peace??

Seems like Clark Kent’s main problem with fake kryptonite is that every wannabe evil doomsdayer is going to want to bean him in the head with a rock, and that sounds bothersome.

Ivan Blackbutt stands up at the dais of the ballroom and announces to the room that he has come into the possession of something very valuable! *removes sheet from mystery glass box, revealing Hitler’s penis*

KRYPTONITE!

The ONE THING that can kill Superman! Lucky him! It doesn’t even occur on Earth naturally! I’m told.

“…and I intend to use it as a cornerstone of an anti-metahuman campaign focused on my beloved Japan…” Ivan Blacklung continues boringly. Clark facepalms. Even his best friend in the world, this Japanese guy no one has ever heard of before, hates Superman! It never ends! Maybe he should tell this guy that he bought a useless spray-painted rock. Or maybe he should become Superman and eat it so that he can “prove” it doesn’t work so that no one will try to hurt him with real kryptonite. Maybe Superman should eat a dang pile of rocks.

FINALLY, THIS IS WHERE THE ACTION BEGINS! Some very large, armored muscle-man riding a gigantic lion made of rock crashes through the wall and stops this farce in its tracks! “You will relinquish that ill-gotten rock to its rightful owner! So commands Ishi-Shujou, the Stone Emperor!!!”

How dumb could you get? This is dumb! ACTION!

“Back away from my property, Capitalist, or my granite ninjas will rend you limb from limb!!” he screams, bounding straight toward a confused Ivan Blacksabbath. Clark facepalms again. He’ll be doing that a lot.

So this Stone Emperor guy, he knows that this “trollop” has been hocking kryptonite. However, the fake kryptonite was stolen from the Stone Emperor in the first place. And he wants that shit back for some reason! Because he thinks it’s real too. Everyone wants the Superman-killing chunk of rock.

Superman shows up OUT OF NOWHERE and throws objects at the Stone Emperor. Tells him to vamoose!

Stone Emperor is all like “FUCK YOU, GRINGO! THIS AIN’T AMERICA! THIS IS JAPAN! THE RULES ARE DIFFERENT! BACK OFF, KEMOSABE! CAPICHE?”

Superman does not capiche. He claps his hands forcefully with an onomatopoeic “FATHOM” (?) which crumbles his stone lion into…pebbles, I guess. GRR!! YOU WIN THIS ROUND!! He gives up quickly. “We will meet again, Cape…and you will know my wrath.”

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Look, lady, I’ll buy all your rocks for $45.

Yawn. What’s next? Oh, ok, the Stone Emperor dissolves into a puff of scarlet smoke and a fine powder, revealing the TRUE assailant! A sultry, ample-bosomed woman! The trollop! And her name is La Encantadora! Which I think roughly translates to “the trollop”! But my Spanish is rusty…

She immediately attempts to seduce Superman and it sort of works. She advises him to use those x-ray eyeballs of his and look through her dress! He almost does it. He probably took a quick peak. I’m telling Lois.

Snapping out of it, Superman’s all like “stop selling rocks” and ‘Dora is all like “no”. She proffers one of her delicious looking green rocks, and Superman is all like “that ain’t even real, I can smell the paint fumes already and– HAAAKGCH!”

Well, that one is real. Dozens of members of the press start snapping photos of Superman writhing on the floor like a wuss. Bidding starts at ten million dollars! She’ll meet anybody with a serious offer in Tijuana. Pay for your own drinks.

Superman continues to lurch and heave trying to stop her, but it’s a fruitless and dumb pursuit. So he tries asking her to please stop, but it’s not a sincere “please” whatsoever. I wouldn’t listen to him either if he’s going to be RUDE about it.

The press already has this pathetic display all over the television and internet. Just a full screen of Superman looking like a lump on the floor. The yokels over at the Daily Planet throw in their own two cents about it. “Almost took the big mane out… and every character with a grudge and a TV just saw her do it!” says Jimmy Olsen, speaking to nobody. Speaking to himself. As usual.

Lois is distressed. Remember, she knows who Superman is now! He’s… *checks marriage certificate with “Superman” scribbled out and “Clark Kent* rewritten* …her husband! She has to stay stoic and brave though! She has a job to do! Something about reporting the news, I think. It’s hazy.

Next thing we all see is Superman flying away confidently. He complains about the agony, but he looks fine to me. I’ve seen green shit come out of his nose due to kryptonite. This ain’t nothing.

This La Encantadora floozy is just distracting Superman so that she can continue to make money off of suckers and incels! Two can play it this game! Superman can attract incels, too!

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Matthew Lesko has seen better days.

The Riddler is in Tijuana for some inexplicable reason, never minding the clear fact that he should be in Gotham City harassing Batman instead. He and a bunch of other bad-guy ne’er-do-wells want to buy some of ‘Dora’s rocks. She smiles like she’s going to spit poison any minute now and lets them all know there’s plenty to go around! For like a trillion dollars each, please.

Superman must have GPS, because in no time at all he busts into this joint and starts pummeling fools left and right. “–got about three seconds before Encantadora realizes what’s happening, her synapses fire, and she thinks to open that box.”

Sounds like a thought that takes three seconds, to me, but no. Superman must have super-thinking power too, but based on his track record that’s impossible!

He takes the box from her hands and flings it into space. Bye! Say hi to Krypton for me! Oh wait, it’s gone and Superman’s whole family is dead! lol

Encantadora is like “fuck this!” It took her forever to find this hideout, and he busts it up in four minutes? Go fuck yourself.

“Don’t flatter yourself. The Riddler parked his green and purple van outside,” he tells her after she gets a little dig in that Superman has worked harder than any other man to get to her. She attempts the old sex gambit again. She asks for a peckaroonie on the ol’ lips…a-roonie. The choker around her neck starts giving him the tinglies, but not the good tinglies. The kryptonite tinglies. She looks confused and admits that it’s made out of more fake rocks, but he doubles over and goes BLUB BLUURRHHRB BRUAHABAAABABAB, which makes all the bad guys in the room snicker and chuckle and guffaw.

Riddler is the first one to kick him while he’s down, so to speak. He cracks both hands against the side of Superman’s neck, but then a rough KKRRRICHH!!! indicates that he quite literally cracks both hands! He shoves off sore and irritated.

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Even in pain this guy finds the energy to Sphinx around.

It feels like kryptonite pain, but he’s still IMPERVIOUS TO SKINNY WIMPS? What’s going on here?

La Encantadora laughs and says “bye chumps” and leaves them all in the lurch! Off to San Francisco to sucker more dumb men out of their money! Adios!

A quick stop in Metropolis to say hi to Lois Lane before leaving somewhere else again. Lois scrounged up everything about La Encantadora that she could find on GeoCities in 1999, but it’s not much. There’s no pattern to her behavior. Thanks for nothing, Lois! I thought you were smart!

In San Francisco, ‘Dora has just sold a bullshit rock to some aggro-Spice Girl looking ladies. Superman is already there, hovering dick-to-face level with the one holding the rock up. She smiles, looking forward to taking Superman down and, I don’t know, humping his unconscious face?

It doesn’t work. He ties them up together with rope and leaves them hanging from the bridge. Next!

Superman bounces all over the world. The Arctic. China. New York. Metropolis. Berlin. Half a mile under the sea. Miami. He keeps shaking down new buyers of useless rocks for more information. He doesn’t really get any further in his pursuit. I would’ve just thrown ‘Dora in a pit or something and moved on with my life.

She seems to be moving faster than him, somehow. He ends his pursuit in the Sahara Desert, where he meets up with a blowjob named Ra’s al Ghul and his daughter Talia. I don’t know who these people are, but they look stern and unfriendly!

“You’re not as clever as the Detective,” proclaims Ra’s al Ghul, possibly referring to Batman, “the Detective would never have been led ‘round like a dog on a leash, fear-blind to clues within his grasp.”

Action Comics (Vol. 1), Issue #760

Ra’s al Ghul puts the “action” in “Action Comics”. Keep that in mind, nerd.

They’re already bored with this guy, so they leave. Talia, on her way out, tells him that he needs to go to Spain now. Have fun! Run with some bulls while you’re there.

Superman looks bewildered, forlorn, and simple-minded! Also fugly. “Fear-blind to clues… what am I missing here?”

Sounds like we’re getting some DETECTIVE WORK in my Action Comics! Stay in your lane, bro.

In northern Spain, Encantadora is chilling on a bench waiting for a particular buyer to show up. She looks bored. “Should have known better than to take this meet. Mxyzptlk isn’t even a real name…how could he have a bank account?”

Luckily, someone shows up! It’s not Mryxtysyxyslk, but it’s Superman and all the Supervillains whom ‘Dora has wronged in the last five pages! All ready to kick some ass!

Here’s what’s ducky about this: she knows the jig is up. She doesn’t even look confident anymore. Sad and nervous. She looks for a way to weasel out of this one like a snake, but instead she has to own up to her actions. Like a weasel.

‘Dora touches the charm on her necklace, attempting to release some sweet, sweet, intoxicating, scarlet smoke and possibly harm Superman, but something fast SWOOPS DOWN and snatches it from her neck!

Looks like the conwoman has become the connee! It took a while, lots of strenuous thinking on Superman’s part which he DOES NOT do very well with.

“How did you figure it out?” ‘Dora asks quizzically, setting up a nice, convenient denouement! That’s French for “anticlimax”.

“I almost didn’t. I was so busy trying to compensate for my weakness… that I never looked for yours,” Superman guffaws as he holds up a cube. It turns out that she unknowingly betrayed her own damn self!

“Oh, by the way, Doctor Spectro sends his regards from jail,” Superman says, clicking on the Bat-Signal thing he had at the beginning of this issue; roughly 900,000 words ago on this blog post. Holy shit is this a long comic. The real Superman was the one who swooped in to steal the necklace. The fake Superman and all his fake supervillain buddies were actually fakes! Cooked up from the Bat-Signal thing!

‘Dora explains that her necklace smoke allows her to manipulate her targets. No shit. She was using Superman to get him to show up and beat these villains up so that she could sneak away with the money and no one was the wiser! Great plan! Except for the fact that it was foiled! Ha ha ha ha ha!

She gushes with respect for him, which is just another ploy to get a hunk of that boner inside of her. He tells her handcuffs will be involved, but it’s not going to be as sexy as she envisions. She kisses him right on the mouth, tongue flopping around in there.

He asks her why she did that.

“Consider it a show of good faith… at the beginning of a long-term relationship, darling.”
“You think so…?”
“Oh baby… I know so.”

Final Thoughts

What the fuck was THAT ending?

This post is already too long as it is. Let me just sum up my feelings with one word:

*fart*


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