Paper Girls, Issue #9

Paper Girls, Issue #9

* Part 4 of 5 of the Paper Girls Volume 2 storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: Paper Girls, Issue #9! In the previous installment, KJ is still missing! The two Erins scope out the mall looking for clues! Mac, Tiff, and Not-Erin all converge at the mall, but Not-Erin plans to whisk the two of them away 68,000 years in the future where they will be “safe”.

In the mall, the two Erins discover a field hockey stick jutting out of an alternate dimension near the ceiling of the concourse. Old Erin discovers some writing carved into the stick and pulls it out for Young Erin to read.

It says “DON’T TRUST OTHER ERIN!!!”

Open for interpretation, obviously! I wanna keep reading. Someone shut me up right now so I can continue on!

Paper Girls, Issue #9 [September, 2016]
Written by: Brian K. Vaughan

Paper Girls, Issue #9

“The here and now is neither here nor now“

So here we are! Now! “You must be very confused, but I have answers to all your questions,” proclaims Not-Erin, still helping Tiff out of the maggot spooge. The giant maggot must have been in her backpack full of rations, and, like the tardigrades and god knows what else, got resized all wrong while she… “chuted through her folding”. Sounds like you have to be over eighteen for that.

Not-Erin uses her special time-travel genie powers to warp the maggot spooge out of existence. At least out of this existence. I’m sure the maggot is still spoogin’ Tiff at another point in time in this ONE timeline, as Not-Erin has confirmed. Just one. You can bounce around it all willy-nilly though. You just can’t, you know, flash sideways.

“So, you’re another time-traveler? Then…why do you look exactly like our friend?” asks Tiff. Oh hey, remember when Not-Erin said she has the answer to all of your questions? Well, she doesn’t want to answer this one. Not yet. “Right, the original Erin Tieng. Please tell me you know where to find her.”

Um, up your butt, bitch! That’s where!

Paper Girls, Issue #9

Bill Cosby loves the New Coke! Don’t tell me you’ve got a beef with Bill Cosby?? In 2016??!?!

Newsflash! There are two Erins running amok in the Great Cleveland Area!

What, you didn’t know that? Looks like the unflappable doth been flapped, as they say! Not-Erin looks nervous. Here we go, buddy. Now it’s your turn to be in a fucked situation, Sport.

Back at the mall, Young Erin just discovered that she’s not supposed to trust “other” Erin… OR, MAYBE, Old Erin will soon discover that she’s not supposed to trust “other” Erin… a real sticky wicket is about to unfold here in either case!

Old Erin climbs down from the fountain ready and eager to learn what her scrappy counterpart has just discovered on the field hockey stick.

“Well, I don’t know if KJ really wrote it…” Young Erin looks sheepishly down at the stick and begins her uncanny Jeff Goldblum impression, “…but um, it says… ah…”

WELL DON’T LEAVE ME HANGIN’, SON! Let me get closer! These old-ass eyes have SEEN better days, heh heh heh!

Young Erin flips the stick over before Old Erin is able to read the words. The other side says this: “GET TO THE 4TH FOLDING NOW”. Hey, whew, that looks like an important diversion! Good call, Mr. Stick. “What do you think it means?” Young Erin asks her wise, albeit shaky and coffee-fueled older self.

The 40-Year Old Virgin pulls out her Apple doohickey and says that it just told her the ass where the stick was extracted from was the First Folding, the very same First Folding the device told her about back at home. So that means they found it! Maybe they gotta find two other foldings before they can stumble upon the Fourth Folding. Kinda like collecting crystals or gems or dungeon medallions! Hey, this sounds kinda fun!

Nah, scratch that, the Apple Brain Worm is giving Old Erin directions to the Fourth Folding as they speak at that very moment, in that very dingy mall. It’s pointing them to downtown Cleveland…and about 1000 ft above the ground. Taller than Terminal Tower. And Terminal Tower towers pretty terminally at 771ft. Young Erin already knows that, somehow.

So how are they gonna get up there, you ask? I already predict that someone’s going to hijack one of those futuristic pterodactyls! But right now, who knows? “Flying is Missy’s gimmick,” Old Erin mutters saltily.

Wow, Erin’s younger sister is a pilot! Gnarly shit!

Paper Girls, Issue #9

Oh, Dad? Dad’s in hell. Where he belongs.

Old Erin doesn’t get a chance to answer. There’s a bear-sized tardigrade sneaking up behind Young Erin’s back! Eek! Eek and gross.

Young Erin hits it with the hockey stick, but it gets stuck in its…face sphincter. He chews it up into splinters. “Aww, he’s just a little guy!” coos a voice coming from the stairs. Old Erin and Young Erin turn to look…

And here we have it! A confluence of the three Erins! Not-Erin descends the stairs with Mac and Tiff in tow. “Stand aside ladies. This is about to get…” she notices the two ladies she’s going to save are indeed her and her, “…messy? God. Is that how I’m gonna look when I’m old?”

This distraction buys the tardigrade time to swipe his creepy tardigrade paw at Not-Erin, knocking her ass down the rest of the stairs. It looks like curtains for Not-Erin. Curtains, see? But Tiff leaps onto the water bear and rides it like a bull, just like this issue’s cover art!

“Tiff, what are you doing?!” shouts Mac.
“I have no idea!” shouts Tiff. She has no idea.

Tiff is keeping the beast at bay, though, and she urges the rest of them to get out while she has the flolloping tardigrade occupied.

Fuck that, though! Young Erin takes the hockey stick and stabs through the top of the beast’s head. Now, a quick Wikipedia article perusal on tardigrades will tell you that these things are literally damn near indestructible. They can survive in volcanoes, they can survive in Antarctica, they can survive deep in the ocean, and they can survive in the vacuum of space. So impalement by hockey stick is fuckin’ nothing. Still, the thing wails and rolls up in a quivering little ball.

Paper Girls, Issue #9

I was made in a cup. Like soup. $130,000 cup of soup.

Young Erin, Young Patient Level-Headed Erin, Young Erin Who Doesn’t Like Cussing, looks at her similarly-aged doppelganger and asks her, and I quote, “What…what the fuck are you?”

“Get away from her, Erin,” yells Xanax Nancy over here, “she’s obviously some evil Mirror Universe version of us!”

No, there are no alternate universes. There are no alternate Earths. She’s DEFINITELY not an alien, how could you even be so dumb? No no no, she’s a CLONE. Like, a CLONE, you know? As in *fzzzz* *whrrrr* *spppllorrt* *zzzzzizizz* *POP* there’s your new clone!

And who cloned her? Her “creators”. Sort of like mom and dad without the penis inside the vagina part. Good ol’ Naldo and Uncle Heck, those do-gooders aren’t the “creators”, but they helped!

Even Mac has to hand it to these two who died to save Young Erin’s bullet-riddled life.

Young Erin, though, is skeeved out a little bit. “A clone? Why would anyone want another one of me?” she asks. If I had a nickel for every time I myself was grateful I didn’t have a creepy twin.

The answer is simple. November 1, 1988, was a very special morning. You paper delivery girls found “her family’s ship” and the rest is history. Or future. The rest is history in reverse.

Does she mean that thing that happened where the ship overloaded and sent them to the future? Mac wonders if that’s what gave her the Dreaded Cancer, but no, it did something else too. It “encrypted their DNA”, sort of. And this magical DNA encryption renders the “Old-Timers” unable to find them. And anyone who shares their genetic makeup, for that matter. Not-Erin. Old Erin. You get the gist. Do I need to spell it out for you?

The key was in one of those robot bugs that swarmed over Young Erin’s gunshot wound. When Naldo and Heck’s ship crash-landed back home with their dead corpses and whatnot, one was discovered brimming with Young Erin’s blood. Not-Erin owes her, and all the rest of the paper girls, her life. And she intends to repay that favor by helping them all to safety.

Which, as you might recall, is somewhere in the vicinity of Year 70,000. The 701st century, baby.

Paper Girls, Issue #9

Aren’t you listening? Magical DNA encryption! Hockey sticks! Keep up.

Old Erin is understandably skeptical. You don’t get to age 40 living in the same town and working at the same newspaper without… … …well, at any rate, she doesn’t trust this kid as far she can throw her. And she’d probably be able to throw her pretty far if she wasn’t all squishy and flabby. Her sentiment, not mine. I think she looks tops!

So why should you listen to Not-Erin right now? Because there’s giant versions of normally tiny creatures roaming around, and that’s gonna attract attention (DNA encryption or no DNA encryption). And since we don’t have time to get that shit on the blockchain permanently, they all need to do something about it before these old-timers catch wind of something fishy going on in 2016 and pop in unwanted. They’re the Kramer to our Jerry’s apartment.

OLD ERIN’S GETTIN’ UPSET! “You keep saying ‘old-timers’ like that crap means anything. Who are these senior citizens you’re so afraid of?”

“Like most people over thirty, they’re monsters,” Not-Erin says grimly. Darn tootin’! That’s what the “don’t trust anyone over 30” said until they all turned 30 and were not to be trusted! You can trust me on that, I’m 34.

Young Erin gets douche chills and peeks over at the still-crotchety old lady with a look of mild apology.

What’s going on in downtown Cleveland right now? GOOD QUESTION, TOM, LET’S FIND OUT. A woman is flying a helicopter over the urban skyscape. The sky crackles with violet-tinged electricity. A bridge is destroyed. Some collapsed buildings emit plumes of smoke. Looks like Detroit. Eh, Cleveland’s not much better, who am I kidding?

Her boss, or, like, some guy, radios her to get out of there. “Missy, get back to the hospital, right now. We just watched the 19 Action News Chopper get…get swallowed by something.”

Missy, Erin’s sister, helicopter pilot extraordinaire, is like “what”. She requests more information as she flies into a large cloud of hot pink light. “VUR VUR VUR VUR VUR VUR VUR VUR”. That’s the hum! You remember the hum, right? When crazy time shit starts happening? Crazy time shit is happening.

“Please do not worry, all shall be done and forgotten,” says a new voice over the radio. Missy is like “what”.

The voice repeats the part about the done and the forgotten. In front and above Missy’s helicopter, a huuuuuuuuge whale of a flying craft emerges from a space-time rift in the sky. We’re talking like an ornately old-fashioned cruise ship the size of Providence, Rhode Island connected to three big blimps. We’re talking some crazy cyberpunk shit.

Paper Girls, Issue #9

You best not be yankin’ our chains right now, bitch.

Back to the group where 3/5ths of them are Erins, the cloney Erin takes them all to the front of an old Radio Shack where the Fifth Folding is about to pop into existence! What about the Fourth Folding?! For that matter, where’s Two and Three? Did we skip levels? Did someone blow the Warp Whistle?

Young Erin motions desperately for her old self to put a fucking sock in it. Mac asks what she’s talking about. Old Erin spills the beans about the field hockey stick they found. “WHAT?! You got a message from KJ and you didn’t tell us?” cries Tiff with petulant indignation!

“We don’t know she wrote it,” Young Erin defends herself against the onslaught of Tiff’s fiery Arkanoid-addicted rage, “I…I didn’t know what to believe.”

Not-Erin agrees. It was probably a trap. Sorry, Tiff. The Fourth Folding is no good, kid. It’s less than jake. It would take you right into your enemies’ hands! No, no, no, the Fourth Folding ain’t the place to be. The Fifth Folding is where it’s at. It’s, like, ONE better! Plus, it takes you to the sanctuary. The future. 68,000 fucking years from now. So let’s hop to it!

“I don’t know where your companion KJ really ended up, but if you don’t come with me, I promise you’ll never live long enough to find out,” says Not-Erin with the solemnity of a bowling ball to the face. Does anyone realize how serious this is? There are hockey sticks sticking out of time-space continuum portals next to KAY-BEE TOYS, you ninnies.

“So now you’re threatening these children?” challenges Old Erin, itching for a Xanax-fueled fight.
“It was a warning. And these girls are not children,” replies Not-Erin, adding more exciting WTF layers with every new sentence that comes out of her mouth.

Tiff is starting to come around on this cockamamie business. After all, the future is where Young Erin got her bullet wound chewed up by robot bugs back to full health, right? Perhaps someone somewhere can even wipe out Mac’s cancer? Hell yeah, now Mac’s on board. Fucking cancer can kiss her Gen X ass.

Paper Girls, Issue #9

You had me at “hello”.

Off they go, leaving Old Erin behind and completely beside herself. “This is insane! I’m not letting you girls leave here with some patently sinister stranger!”

This is where it comes out. With Mac and Tiff convinced, and Young Erin sheepishly following suit based on that menacing hockey stick advice, nobody is on Old Erin’s side anymore. “Even Erin thinks you’re a crazy person,” says Tiff coldly. Young Erin has tears streaming down her face. Old Erin has tears streaming down her face. As they say, you’re your own worst enemy.

“Erin Tieng, if we have learned one thing over the last twenty-eight years, it’s that most people are way better liars than us. Please, please be smart about–”

Boom. Violet light. Fifth Folding. They’ve got 87 seconds to pass through the barrier. Shake a leg.

On the other side of the open portal, you can see creepy pod communities built upon strange tree-like structures growing out of the ocean. Flying mechanical robot centipede things. It doesn’t look very sanctuary-esque to me.

Final Thoughts

Yeesh. How about we all just go back to Radio Shack and loot some walkie-talkies? All these Foldings seem like bad news. How about an Orange Julius? Eh? Eh?

Fine, go through the dang portal.


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Sucky Funnies for July 24, 2022

When it comes to locking horns and acne and marmadukin’, this is the post for you.

The Lockhorns

The Lockhorns - July 24, 2022

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I think the Lockhorns is the only Sunday comic strip older than dirt that I enjoy unironically. Even as a kid, with no relatability with or personal frame of reference for romantic relationships, I found the simple fact that these two hate each other to be hilarious in of itself. As an adult, I have a strong appreciation for just how consistently clever the jokes are. We’re talking over 50 years of gender role humor! Do they get recycled? Is it even possible to tell if they are?

I don’t remember when Leroy started to look perpetually drunk, as illustrated with the jagged upper lip, but it’s an excellent touch for the panels that have nothing to do with partying. Just look how inebriated and dejected Leroy appears with that newspaper in Panel #4! I’m still laughing!

It makes one wonder when these 4-ft tall crabapples will finally get a divorce. Or feel the sweet, sweet release of death drape over them like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

David Rickard: “Loretta: I’ve often thought about going after you with a steamroller… but it would be too fast. I want you to suffer, Leroy.”

Ha ha! Heh heh heh… um…

Marmaduke

Marmaduke - July 24, 2022

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Who has two thumbs and wants to drag Marmaduke out to the backyard and blast him in the face with a shotgun at point-blank range, Old Yeller style?

The Winslows are stuck in an eternal Hell, we all know that already. It does seem naïve to me that Mother Winslow thinks she can break the cycle by repeating her demands twice in a row! Of course it doesn’t work. Nothing will work. They are all but ghosts in a house with fates they cannot control, desperate for means to finally put an end to all the suffering and transcend this existence of unrest.

Unfortunately, only Marmaduke can decide when this happens. And it ain’t gonna be anytime soon.

SHAKEDOWNVILLE: “‘Tossed’ salad.”
LookingGlass: “‘Hurricane’ Marm certainly did ‘help!!’ :-O”
anncorr339: “Marm is no good doing chores”

Well, I suppose we’re all stuck in an endless cycle of suffering, after all.

Zits

Zits - July 24, 2022

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I hate having to clean up after my teenage son after he shits on the floor. Is this something every other parent of a teenage son has to deal with? Is it just me, then? Hello? Is this not a normal thing? I thought everyone had to deal with their floor-shitting teenager, like a rite of passage.

I’m happy that Mr. and Mrs. Duncan can escape into their Elephant & Piggie books. Take it from me, when you are raising children you don’t have much time or energy to invest in a novel that is any more complicated.

Do Tell: “Jeremy can’t be an elephant. He always forgets to do what his parents ask of him.”
eb110americana: “Jeremy’s his own Animal House”
wil22: “THAT’S ALL WRONG, IT SHOULD BE A DONKEY AND PIGLOUSEY. SPENDING LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW. FREE THIS, FREE THAT. THANKS TO JOE MANCHIN WE MAY LAST A LITTLE LONGER”

Oh wil22, you just wrote the funniest thing I’ve read all day. You should be a newspaper cartoonist!


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Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3 – “Shaman (Part 3)”

* Part 3 of 5 of the Shaman storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3 – “Shaman (Part 3)”! In the previous installment, a connection is starting to make itself clear between the Gotham drug trade, the mysterious Chubala/ritual killing problem, and Officer Al Kelly being the only victim not from the fake-ass Caribbean island Santa Prisca. And by “starting to make itself clear”, I mean “being written about by a comic book nerd who seems to be making stuff up as he goes along”.

Also a loser named Bennet Young got killed before he had a chance to “tell Batman something”.

No further statements, Your Honor. Let’s get this show on the road.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3 [January, 1990]
Written by: Dennis O’Neil
“Shaman (Part 3)”

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

These cover arts aren’t very comic book-y. But they are art-y, I’ll give them that. Is that supposed to be Bruce Wayne with his Batman cowl shedding away around him like an orange peel? What’s the symbolism here, that the man behind the mask is never that far away from being completely exposed and vulnerable? And sexy? Hmm?

“A few seconds ago, he watched a man die. It is something he has never seen before. He will never get used to it.”

Thanks, mysterious narration! Are we talking about Bruce fucking Wayne, who has watched a man die? That man was his father? Hello?? A very pivotal “watched a man die” scenario in Bruce’s life? Are you serious?

Ugh. Well, at any rate, Bruce tries to comfort the maid, but he’s not very good at it. He mentions that she should call a doctor even though the doctor won’t be able to help one bit, so that’s some good bedside manner! “I’m going to check the ballroom. Maybe the killer is still around,” he says, just making an excuse to leave the room so that he doesn’t have to continue watching the dead man bleed out. Gross, right? Not really Bruce’s cup of tea.

Bruce moseys around the building, contemplating the fact that Dr. Madison “Alaskan Artifact Stealer” Spurlock was just holding a party here two days ago with laughing patrons and washed-up celebrities! Now it’s quiet and disturbing and someone died! What the fuck! People don’t just die!

Looking around the display cases, he notices artifacts absent from their respective locations: a lance (that’s in Bennet Young’s gut now, lol), a bat mask, and the bow and arrows.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Hey, only Alfred’s allowed to be snarky in this comic! Stay in your lane.

The illustrations are pretty fucking bad here, so I’ll try my best to interpret what’s going on in the next three panels: an arrow appears to be flying toward Bruce Wayne out of nowhere, Bruce Wayne notices it and catches it in mid-air, then a police officer points a gun at him and says “FREEZE! You make a move and I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”

And this police officer isn’t blowing anyone tonight! The two maids confirm that, yes, this big hunk ‘o man was with them when the other guy was dying and/or dead. Officer ACAB, who looks like a completely different person in every panel he’s in, puts down his gun and goes “daaaarrhhhh, oookkaaayyy, but you hafta make a statement.”

“I trust you used words of one syllable or less,” Alfred asks Bruce later as the story is recounted. Ha! I love you, Alfred. Unconditionally.

I suppose we’re moving on from the dead guy for now! Alfred’s driving Mr. Wayne to the Gotham City Athletic Club’s board meeting, aka the GCAC’s…BM! And while Mr. Wayne is wasting away some precious life during his performative appearance at said meeting, Alfred is to secure a plane ticket to Otter Ridge, Alaska. Why? Because don’t ask any fucking questions, Butler. That’s why!

Actually, here’s the reasoning: “Tina, the girl who killed herself…she panicked when she saw me as the Batman. Now the bat mask is stolen– a mask that came from Otter Ridge. There has to be a connection.”

Thanks Bruce, you’re a real Sherlock Robert Downey Heroin Addict Jr. Holmes with this stuff. Sounds like someone just wants to go back to bone the hot Inuit lady. Pretty transparent, sir.

BUT, before Bruce shoves off to the Last Frontier and bones the eskimo woman, he’s going to have a man-to-man chat with Dr. Madison “Supersize Me” Spurlock.

“Ah, Alfred? Shouldn’t you be making notes on my instructions?” prods the micromanaging Bruce.
“Why? Have we acquired stock in a paper company?” responds the ever-deadpan Alfred. This fucking guy! My man!

On his way to the board meeting, a banker named Carl Fisk accosts Bruce on the street and invites him to a party that night. Fisk is very interested in buying up some Wayne property! But Bruce Wayne is all like “no way, dude, I’m gonna hella put on tights tonight and play around in the frigid cold Gotham City winter nightscape.”

And he does just that!

It’s -2°F and this dumbass is hanging out on the windy roofs of tall buildings in his thin spandex, catching frostbite on all manner of extremity. And I do mean ALL manner. Use your imagination.

Batman is keeping his eye on a guy named Grandy Jimenez, who meets with associates at midnight for a dope deal at an under-construction office building. Are one of these associates the aforementioned Robert Downey Jr.? This is 1990, after all. He was probably really getting into it then.

Anyway, Batman springs into action!

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

BATMAN IS ON THE SCENE! NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NA!!

He swoops down and kicks a drug dealer right in the face. Then he leaves.

“What was that?”
“Where’d it go?”
“Was a big bat?”
“No…was the Bat Man!”
“We in trouble!”

Looks like the Man Bat’s reputation precedes him out on the streets, and these fools are scared shitless! And that’s good, I already can’t take anymore of this awful dialogue. Wait, here’s some more:

“Hey, I din’ buy no hassle with no Bat Man! I’m trippin’!”

Lovely. Makes me miss the slurred, guttural croaking of Stan the smelly Gotham pimp. Batman takes these bitches out one by one. A gun is pulled out, bullets are unloaded, but it’s fruitless! *punch*

Grandy Jimenez is the last one left standing. Batman rifles through some pockets and pulls out a fat stack of bills. Fifty large, son. “Grocery money, Grandy?”

Grandy gibbers and twitches. “You do remember me, don’t you?” Batman asks as he grabs the kid’s coat lapels and shakes the bejesus out of him. “You recall what happened on the hospital roof the night you tried to murder a cop?”

Oh, we were supposed to know this guy was named Grandy Jimenez before? It was never mentioned! Is this what we call non-linear storytelling? What is this, Pulp Fiction?

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Hey, this wasn’t part of the deal! I’m supposed to hurt you! Not the other way around!

Well, Batman went easy on him then. Now he’s not feeling as charitable. And as he blah-blah-blahs intimidatingly, someone unaffiliated with this troupe of thugs sneaks up behind the caped nerd and bashes him in the dome with a large sack of concrete mix.

The thugs don’t see who did it. “Somethin’ fell on him. Must be Chubala magic,” one postulates as Batman lies crying and hurt and totally bitchmade on the ground. “Chubala on our side, we okay. We can kill him.”

Batman looks sad and helpless as these dudes just start kicking his torso with their pointy thug boots. He’s pretending to be a big man about this, pretending that this is all part of his plan as this situation “buys him time” and he “tenses his muscles” to avoid the “real damage” like he’s pulling off a huge grift here. He pretends to be out cold as the guys drag his limp bulk up eight stories of the building construction. “We push him over the edge. Yeah, it’s eight stories down. That’ll bust more’n his nose.”

Speaking of bustin’ noses, at the last second Batman pops into gear and bashes two heads together. A couple more panels of successful ass-kicking commences…until he gets an arrow in the back. He wasn’t watching this one!

He sees a vision of big, scary, bat mask shaman bullshit as he becomes disoriented and topples over the edge of the building. Perhaps this is the Chubala? I dunno. He really wants to kill Batman though, aiming more arrows at his face. Batman thinks quickly and uses his cape to guard his gloves as he slides down a steel cable. His cape is torn to shreds, but he’s relatively unhurt…except for the giant arrow wound in his back.

Presumably, Batman scuffles back home as soon as possible so he can regale Alfred with all his heroic tales. As if he cares.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Getting turned into Swiss cheese by a barrage of arrows is less than ideal, sir. I don’t really want to…touch your lumpy torso.

“If you continue to involve yourself in these contretemps, our clothing bill will soon exceed the national debt,” Alfred scolds, inspecting the shredded cape, “and our bandage bill will exceed that.”

As usual, Bruce doesn’t acknowledge Alfred’s prattling. He’s thinking about why his assailant was wearing a dang shaman bat mask at all. Alaska is the key! Gotta go to Alaska! Gotta bone that lady…

Alfred has some insight. These ritual cult killings in town? They’ve been going on long before Dr. Spurlock’s trip. Hell, long before Bruce even helped fund Spurlock’s research. Bruce admits that it doesn’t make sense, but the connection is there, and you can’t very well talk this man out of anything! Not until he gets a little bit more symmetrical with his back wounds, at the very least!

So Bruce gets up to put on his Batman spandex, intending to have his audience with Dr. Spurlock come hell or high water! Just…just after…just after he passes out a bit…

Bruce almost tips over in an exhausted daze. Alfred helps the tuckered-out little bat boy to his quarters. “It’s nearly five in the morning, you’ve been up for forty-eight hours, and I believe bats sleep during the day.”

When you’re right, you’re right, Alfred! And you’re always right! What would Bruce do without you, sweetie? *kiss*

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

And then he dropped his pants and took a giant dump in my mouth.

The next day, Bruce pops into Dr. Spurlock’s Gotham University office, looking like a complete pile of shitty, busted up, smiling garbage. All bandaged and bruised and roughed-up and tenderized. “Absolutely ferocious game of tennis at the club yesterday,” he chuckles, the cut-up that he is! Soooo cute!

Spurlock ain’t charmed. He looks annoyed that this pretty boy is even speaking in the same room that happens to presently be within.

Bruce cuts to the chase. Alfred’s niece, let’s just say her name is “Alfreda”, is doing a term paper on primitive religions! And since she ain’t got no internet in 1990, Bruce is here to bend Spurlock’s ear. Ever heard of the “Chubala”? Lay it on him. Spill.

Chubala, huh? It’s a Santa Prisca cult based around a vulture god. A real motherfucking savage. The only way the god can be appeased is to throw him some human meat, yo. Ritual killings, sacrifices. I mean, which cult isn’t killing people these days? There’s also no Heaven with Chubala, only Hell. Neat, huh? If the vulture god is displeased, to Hell you go! And in Hell, you get a stomach full of rats that just gnaw away for all eternity! However, if you’ve been a good girl or boy by killing enough people, the vulture god will spare you by just ending your life and you get to enjoy an eternity of nothingness.

Or, you could just not be part of the cult. That seems like a less laborious option. Not as much baggage with that one.

The leader guy for the ritual killings is an avatar for the god. He becomes Chubala, so to speak. At least until the sacrifice is over. Cool, huh?

“Does this Chubala have a connection to those Alaskan Indians of yours?” Bruce asks. Now you’ve gone and done it. Spurlock eyeballs this young millionaire playboy like he said the most filthy, racist thing since the Third Reich and begins to give him a verbal licking!

Spurlock doesn’t get to say much, though. Something funny happens instead!

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Total cuck move, dude, getting killed with an arrow in broad daylight on a major college campus.

So this guy’s dead now. Another arrow flies through the air, which Bruce narrowly ducks. And it’s too bad, too, because Alfred’s soft hands are just what the doctor ordered at the moment.

Bruce sees the masked assailant, who starts fleeing. Bruce doesn’t even bother running after him.

“In broad daylight, Alfred,” Bruce says incredulously. He doesn’t know what’s worse: that the guy was killed, that the guy was killed in broad daylight, or that Bruce did nothing. NOTHING! NOTHING! He was helpless! Like a fragile, little, helpless baby! Wah, Alfred! Goo goo ga ga! WAAAAHHH!!

Alfred suggests he suck it up. But no, this is three times this assailant has won! THREE TIMES! WAAAAHHH!!

“Maybe I should just admit that he’s better than me. Maybe there are hundreds more like him.” Ah, so this is what it’s about? A bigger dick contest? It’s always this with you, isn’t it? Feeling inadequate?

“Before you abandon your nocturnal activities and resign yourself to a life of sanity, you might consider pursuing other theories,” Alfred nudges, not content to see Bruce blither and stew in a pool of his own hapless, sad-sack filth. There’s still the whole Otter Ridge, Alaska connection. Huh, buddy? Go get your dick wet.

Yes…yes, that’s a good idea Alfie m’boy! Have you arranged for a flight to– that a boy! Bruce is fired up now! Let’s go hang out with some moose.

“Shall I pack this?” Alfred asks, holding up the ratty Batman uniform. Yeah, sure, it might come in useful. Maybe he can use it as a shammy or something.

Bruce is on his way! I guess this little community was really developed since he was there…like, seven months ago? What does that mean, exactly? They got a 7-Eleven?

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Woo! Bon Jovi’s really tearing it up tonight!

Upon landing in the little town, Bruce immediately spots the shaman healer shaking his moneymaker in the town square and recognizes him (a little too vaguely, honestly) as the man who helped save his life when his ass was turning into a large, ugly ice cube in the middle of the tundra.

“Hey man, I gotta tell ya ya’d flop on American Bandstand!” heckles some blond sex offender mustache guy. Shaman Healer Man collects his busking money and takes a large swig from a bottle. “What happened to his dignity?” Bruce thinks as the Shaman Healer Man’s sexy granddaughter helps him to his feet and starts dragging his shiftless butt home.

“Hey, wait up!” Bruce yells, chasing down the woman. As I recall, he never learned her name. She remembers him, though, hoo boy. Just moist in the nethers with recollection, I’m sure. Here, maybe this will take the wind out of your little horny sails, Bruce: “You! How could I forget you, you–”

“–bastard!”

Eep!

Then a smack across the face! Take that, ya bastard!

She walks away, but he has the nerve to follow her to her car.

“What did I do?” he asks sheepishly.
“You are telling me you do not know?” she responds puzzled. Then allows him in her truck. Then tells him that he’s the reason that dead piece of shit Madison Spurlock visited their sacred village. Everything was simple, comfortable, impoverished yet satisfying. Then this fucking entitled white guy showed up, showed them all shit like cable TV and alcohol and Julia Roberts! Tongues loosened! All hell broke loose! Now everyone knows our secrets!

This still-nameless woman, she thinks Spurlock drugged her grandfather with truth serum. Now he is filled with shame, drowning out his sorrows with booze and snorting crushed-up rohypnol.

So, yeah, your fault Bruce Wayne. I guess.

“I told you we wanted nothing of your generosity– why did you not listen?” she asks, tears running down her face.

Bruce already forgot what he was ashamed about. “Did Spurlock take anything back with him?” he asks her, smiling like a Ken doll. Like a former-Batman Michael Keaton in Toy Story 3 Ken doll. Yes, he took a bunch of medicine and a bat mask. Ha ha! The plot thickens! Sort of.

He tells this STILL-nameless woman that Spurlock and his assistant are dead. Some dude in the bat mask killed both of them.

“I’m not surprised. I can explain–” she begins, but she can’t even start her explanation. Someone is going to collide with her truck.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #3

Look out for ugly, tasteless sedans with at least three different colors.

They collide, not even with a crash! They collide with a TLASH! And I can’t believe this dinky little car won the momentum war. Her truck gets pushed off the road, off the side of the mountain cliff, then breaking through an icy lake.

The truck begins to submerge under the water.

Final Thoughts

What the fuck, not every issue has to end with a completely nuts cliffhanger! First a a lady dies. Then a a guy dies. What’s this now? A lady and a guy dies? Madness.


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Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6 – “Healing Factor (Part 1)”

* Part 1 of 2 of the Healing Factor storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6 – “Healing Factor (Part 1)”! Back at it sooner than I thought with Kamala Khan and her abnormal Pakistani-American teenage existence! In the previous storyline, we see the origin story of Kamala Khan’s tenure as Ms. Marvel (Terrigen bomb gas), her awkward attempts to come to terms with her new powers, the emotional tension between she and her family, and the friends that we made along the way.

Also, her best friend Bruno has a shitty brother who’s involved with some twerp who calls himself The Inventor. The Inventor is a giant chicken or something. Hopefully that gets fleshed out a little bit. Kamala fucks with the Inventor’s plans, so now she’s a target.

Other than that? I dunno. Kamala’s brother is a jobless bum. I learned about five Urdu words.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6 [September, 2014]
Written by: G. Willow Wilson
“Healing Factor (Part 1)”

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Hahh, yes, teenagers and their cell phones, am I right? She’s probably getting a selfie right now of her foiling the bank robbery. Fuckin’ zoomers.

Let’s go through another G. Willow Wilson recap:

“Kamala Khan has always felt different. Nerdy interests, strict parents, and now…strange poly-morphing powers. After resucing her best friend, Bruno’s brother from a shady crew, she discovers that Jersey City has a villain lurking in its midst named the Inventor. Good thing the city has a hero now, too. Kamala Khan is the all-new Ms. Marvel.”

Wow, how exciting. No exclamation points or nothing. Maybe I should read something else.

Ahhhh, fine. Looks like we got a different artist this time! Jake Wyatt instead of Adrian Alphona! Maybe Adrian “accidentally” fell into a woodchipper. At any rate, I kinda like the new art. A little more cartoony; should gel well with the super-stretchy cartooniness of Khan’s powers.

On Westside Avenue in Jersey City, a creepy patrol-bot is scouting the alley. Ever since Kamala stormed that abandoned house in Greenville, these robots have been popping up everywhere. Searching. Seeking. Plotting. Scheming. She has to go out every night now to keep them at bay! It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it! Like prostitution. Or making ham.

Ms. Marvel masquerades as an old dumpster sofa. The little patrol-bot figures it out, so she springs into action! “HRRRAAAAH!” she cries as she punches one into a pile of nuts and bolts. It explodes. Sometimes it also explodes after you pulverize it. Makes it a little more interesting.

Her phone rings, and it’s her lazy older brother Aamir. She says she’s studying, but Aamir tells her that her father is ranting and raving about her needing to speak with Sheikh Abdullah, the Most Boring Guy on Earth, about her new delinquent ways! Tomorrow, at the mosque, after the food drive. Capisce?

Kamala tries to bargain her way out of this one. She’ll do dishes for a month! She’ll lick all the paint off the walls! She’ll crawl around the lawn like a worm! Anything! Anything but that!

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

I’ll make millions selling NFTs! I’ll cure prostate cancer! I’ll align all the planets perfectly to bring good fortune to the Khan household so that mom’s herb garden will finally flourish! I swear!

A bespectacled, stern, non-nonsense, and beardy Shiekh awaits her at the mosque. He, too, is very concerned about her behavior and wants her to sit and hear a very dull lecture from him about it, but Kamala asks to “just get to the part where I say I’m sorry and skip the rest.” Afraid not, sister!

So she tries to ease him into the idea of what she’s been doing around town without, you know, really telling him. “I help people,” Kamala tells him, but that ain’t gonna fly too far. It ain’t got wings. “Sometimes– people get into bigger trouble than they know how to get out of. So I help. Not very well, which is why I end up breaking curfew.”

Sheikh Yerbouti is very suspicious, so Kamala reroutes and attempts another way in. “I don’t mean to disobey Abu and Ammi. It’s just that sometimes I have to in order to do the right thing.

He seems to understand, sorta, kinda, not really, no. BUT, if she claims she’s not good at helping, then perhaps she needs a teacher? Now it’s Kamala’s turn to be suspicious! The room is thick and heady with suspicion! But, there’s no catch. He’s not going to tell her to stop. He’d rather make sure she’s as smart as she can be about it. Whatever it is.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Feel free to come by after hours, though. I’ve got enough tales of Satan and boys to make your head spin!

So now what? NOW, little lady, promise the nice Sheikh that you’ll do your late-night unmentionable deeds with courage, strength, honesty, compassion, and self-respect. Here’s a little mnemonic device for that: CSHCS! Rolls off the tongue. Now, shoo, I’m trying to get the good stuff from the food drive before it’s all snatched up! Ta-ta, now…

WAIT! Where is Kamala Khan supposed to find a teacher? At, like, a SCHOOL or something? Seems like an impossible task! Here’s Sheikh Abdullah’s final words: “When the student is ready, the master will appear.” And then he decides he’s had enough of talking to this annoying teenager and walks out without even a goodbye.

Kamala makes a stop at the comic book store on the way home. Outside the shop is a giant pothole big enough to fall into and die forever. It’s hard to notice the inhuman growling noise emanating from the unfortunate-sized hole in the street. “Hey Roy,” she calls over the kid working in the comic shop, “Does the Coles Street Pothole usually growl?” Roy’s like, what are you, high on pot?? ‘Cause I am! Heh heh.

Roy hears it too, though, and is appropriately alarmed. Kamala takes off like a rocket to “alert the proper authorities” (a bathroom mirror), leaving Roy hanging to possibly get snatched up by giant sewer monsters! Wouldn’t that be fun?

Kamala has an inkling that someone named the Inventor who does a lot of Inventing might use the Jersey City sewer system to hide something WEIRD and UNSETTLING and DANGEROUS. She makes a stop at the Circle Q where her Bruno Buddy is trying to enjoy his uneventful work shift. “Bruno! Costume!” Kamala yells as she speeds through the store. We’ve been through this before with Bruno: stop telling Bruno this stuff. Bruno’s just going to worry. Bruno’s just going to dissuade. Bruno be Bruno. We don’t talk about Bruno.

Ms. Marvel gears up, looking heroic and ready to kick some poop-covered sewer demon right in the balls. Too bad sewers are gross.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Look, kid, Batman spends 19 hours a day in the sewers for fun. You gotta build up that iron stomach!

There might not be any monsters or alligators in the sewers at all. Just a lot of partially-digested White Castle. Kamala starts to feel a little stupid for splashing around for no reason…

…that is, until she rounds a corner and sees a large, makeshift oasis with alligators swimming around. The alligators are strapped with night-vision head gear. So these aren’t your mother’s alligators! Certainly not MY mother’s alligators. They might be YOURS for all I know. I can’t speak for any of my Florida readers.

The Inventor awaits. A tall chicken, who is rather smartly dressed in at least TWO pieces of a three-piece suit and then a large duster jacket, introduces himself as Thomas Edison. He’s sorry he can’t be down in the sewers to greet Ms. Marvel in person. A hologram will suffice, no?

“…you’re a bird.” Kamala states, unable to say much more.

“I AM NOT A BIRD!” Edison squawks birdly into Kamala’s face. A stout, mustached fellow with a sweater vest, Knox, appears and explains that his pet cockatiel contaminated Edison’s DNA when he synthesized him. Knox made a brief appearance at the end of Issue #5. He looks like an annoying little office accountant. Edison tells him to pipe down.

Cockatiel Edison is supposed to be a Thomas Edison clone! The Thomas Edison! The Wizard of Menlo Park! Let me look that up… Menlo Park is only 24 miles from Jersey City! Wow!

Kamala’s like “………so why are you trying to kill me?” And Thomas Alva Birdbrain laughs and hoots! He’s not trying to kill you? Are you serious, little girl? With bionic alligators and weird house-roaming replicant bots? That’s inefficient! Trust me, kid, you’ll fucking know when I’m trying to kill you, you little bitch. Because you’ll be dead! Hahaha! Just kidding, relax, do you want an IBC root beer or something?

Edison’s just experimenting, is all. Can animals be controlled to act against their natural instincts? By the way, the scary part here is that Edison doesn’t want to kill Kamala Khan. He wants to keep her alive. That’s way worse!

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Or perhaps you can fight for your right to party instead, if you wish. As long as you fight for something, I’m cool with it.

Edison’s menacing intentions are undercut by that Knox pipsqueak. Apparently, someone has breached the infrared sensors, sir. Someone else approaches the Big Weird Alligator Pen. Edison is furious. A sword flies through the air and impales the headgear of one of the roaming alligators.

“Great, more bad guys with swords? How much worse can this day possibly get?” thinks Ms. Marvel, regretting even walking by the growling pothole in the first place. Buy all your comics online from now on.

A shadowy suited figure approaches. Kamala readies herself and starts running full steam ahead to the assailant. She hollers her war cry: “POWER ATTACK!” It’s showtime baby! It’s…it’s…

It’s Wolverine.

Wolverine, the Pointiest X-Man, is hanging around the sewers today.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

We’ve got a new contender for the single worst panel I’ve ever come across during my comic-reading adventures!

“Are you outta your mind, kid? I could’ve killed you! What in heck are you doin’ down here?” Wolverine growls in that husky, sweaty, delicious way he does. Kamala squeals with glee and starts hopping up and down. “I totally put you first in my fantasy hero team-up bracket!”

Wolverine ain’t got time for this and starts to walk away. Kamala starts rambling about her Wolverine/Storm erotic fanfiction placing third on the most-viewed list last month on her favorite fanfiction website Freaking Awesome. “I had you fighting this giant alien blob that farts wormholes!” Wolverine stops for a second and thinks. “Wait– so what was the MOST upvoted story?” he asks, and, unfortunately, it was a Cyclops/Emma Frost romp. Of course it is, that fucking boring-ass loser Scott Summers and his frigid bitch!

Enough of this child’s play! Time for alligator wrasslin’! Wolverine pounces and scrambles and hoists one up, holding it squarely in front of Ms. Marvel. “Hit it, kid! Right in the gullet!”

Kamala gibbers and twitches and refuses to punch an animal, but Wolverine tells her that she will DIE if she doesn’t, so she does, and it gets punched, and she feels bad. She probably killed it! Wolverine walks off while Kamala looks like she’s about to cry.

The two of them amble down a sewer pipe and come across a surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling. “I’ve totally got this,” Ms. Marvel declares heroically and stretch-punches the thing into pieces. While Wolverine appreciates the help, she’s still a kid and shouldn’t really be here. She argues that this is her fight; her friend’s brother was kidnapped and the kidnapper started coming after her? What are you doing here, Logan? Stinking up the sewer a little bit worse than it already is???

No. A runaway from the Jean Grey School named Julie is missing. The trail goes cold right here in this sewer. Hey! Ms. Marvel might have some insight! There were quite a few burnout-lookin’ weirdos at that abandoned house in Greenville. Perhaps Julie is one of them? Yeah, ok, sure, fine, maybe, whatever, you can come along and help.

Enough speculation about what might be going on at the Inventor’s abandoned stash house, because the here and now is this stinky sewer and they’ve got to get out of there alive first, and–

SLAM!

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Looks like it’s the Gulag for us, kid.

Prison bars drop from the ceiling! They’re trapped! I’ve seen this part a lot in video games, this is the part where Dr. Robotnik comes out and you have to beat him before you can move on to the next level. Eh, well, what happens instead is that a trap door opens below them and they start water-slidin’ down the sewers. Eventually, they reach a break in the pipes about 20 feet from the underground…subway station?…below. Ms. Marvel tries to hold onto both the pipe and 400-lb-ass Wolverine, but she’s weak as shit so she needs to drop him. And she does. And he’s fine with that. He does a majestic swan dive into the shallow water below.

Now it’s Ms. Marvel’s turn! She flails as she falls, begging herself to shrink enough to avoid too much damage as she breaks through the water. It works. She’s ok. Wolverine scoops her up in his hands and congratulates her on a cool little bit of quick thinking! However, bad news, she’s not supposed to get the Flubber costume wet. It ain’t good for it.

Wolverine struggles to get up after falling 20 feet into a 1-foot depth of standing water. Unbeknownst to mine own self, Wolverine has healing powers? That is to say, he did have healing powers. He doesn’t anymore, and I’m sure I’ll find out why that’s the case in 2014 some other day. So he’s hurt pretty badly! But, he’s good-natured about it! You know, because “good-natured” is how I would describe Wolverine if I had to throw away the first 10,000 adjectives I thought of first.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #6

Ewww, no thanks. No offense, present company excluded, but I believe all mutants should die in a fire.

She gets him up and helps him hobble his way across the underground train station-like catacombs they now find themselves in. Ms. Marvel wastes no time boosting Wolverine’s spirits! He may have been in the superhero game for the last 750 years and Kamala’s been doing it since her last Chemistry test, but she’s getting pretty good at it! So don’t worry, Wolvy Old Boy, Ms. Marvel will handle the superheroing while you recover!

“You a mutant, then?” Wolverine asks, and Kamala’s eyes get as big as dinner plates. All “what the fucking fuck, fuck no, dude” about it. She doesn’t have too much time to think about that right now, though, since she gets distracted by the enormous alligator that approaches them in the shallow water. Enormous, as in, enormous. Godzilla. They’re both screwed.

Dungeon Boss: Most Ginormous Alligator Ever.

Difficulty Rating: 10.

Group Size: Solo.

Final Thoughts

Honestly, How-Do-You-Do-Fellow-Kids jargon and memeing aside, this is probably one of my favorite comic book series I’ve so far started reading through. There’s something very down-to-earth and familiar about it. I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age story, and this is a good coming-of age story. Too bad there’s only 19 issues. I may have to jump ahead to future Ms. Marvel volumes once I’m finished with the Marvel NOW! series.


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Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

Death Note, Vol. 1, Chapter 5 – “Eyeballs”

* Part 5 of 7 of Vol. 1 – “Boredom” *

Welcome to Manga Cum Loudly Presents: Death Note, Vol. 1, Chapter 5: “Eyeballs”! In the previous installment, Raito buys a bunch of crazy supplies and rigs his desk up to explode if the secret compartment that contains the notebook is breached in any one of the 900 incorrect ways to breach the secret compartment.

Meanwhile, L is certain that Kira is one of the main investigators of his own Kira case. He arranges for the American FBI to start spying on the Japanese police and report to him with any findings of interest.

Raito spends a lot of time jerking off, but we don’t actually see that in the book. Be assured that it happens, though!

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5
Written by: Tsugumi Ohba
Illustrated by: Takeshi Obata
“Eyeballs”

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

A lot has happened already. Why, just at the end of the last chapter we had L ask for the American FBI’s involvement, and here at the beginning of this chapter L already has a list of FBI people working on the case. Clarice Starling! Fox Mulder! Dana Scully! Foxxy Cleopatra!

Oh wait, the FBI has a list of other personnel working on the case. That was confusing for a second. L just has to go through, one by one, and he’ll find his Kira. No wonder this slog has 108 chapters.

At school, Ryuuku chills alongside Raito as he meanders through his usual high school routine. Like his shadow. Or a lost, sad puppy.

“Raito, I need to tell you something,” Ryuuku urges.
“I told you not to talk to me in public,” Raito snaps, displaying his position of UPPER HAND. What if Ryuuku needs to use the bathroom? You don’t want him pissing his leather pants, do you?

Ryuuku convinces him to pull themselves aside so they can speak candidly. You know it’s the beginning of a good conversation when a Shinigami death god starts his awkward conversation with “I don’t hate you, and in some ways I feel you’re the perfect owner of the Death Note…”

I don’t hate you and I think you’re perfect! BUT…

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

Listen poopypants, when dealing with humans you’ll ALWAYS be on L’s side, if you catch my drift.

But he ain’t pickin’ sides.

Raito stops for a second, obviously taken aback. But he doesn’t let on. “I already know this,” he says smugly, not knowing it already.

“So I don’t care if what you’re doing is right or wrong,” insists Ryuuku, who likely cares in at least one of those directions more favorably. “But since we live together there’s something I have to say.” Ha! Raito’s been leaving the toilet seat up, hasn’t he? Resentment is already manifesting in this marriage!

Ryuuku spends some more panels hemming and hawing, talking more about talking about it than actually talking about it! Tsugumi Ohba really got his money’s worth with the bottle episode of a chapter so far.

“What I’m about to say isn’t for Kira… it’s just that I feel uncomfortable not saying it… I’ve been following you this whole time, so I noticed immediately… it’s quite annoying… for the past two days…”

“…you’ve been followed by somebody.”

Fuckin’ lol. This Shinigami is a real dickhead, isn’t he? Best character by far. To me, I think it’s hilarious that the language is “hey buddy, I’ve been following you, so let me tell you something: you’re being followed”. Thanks Professor Albert Edison, you brain surgeon you!

And yes, Raito is being followed as we speak. The dude’s like twenty feet behind him.

“How annoying. I’ll get rid of him as soon as possible,” declares Mr. DeadJournal. Luckily for him, this dude has only seen a teenage student doing kid stuff like hopscotch and kickin’ the can and lickin’ giant lollipops. Now Raito’s got UPPER HAND! This will happen a lot, won’t it?

Raito arrives at home and starts ruminating about L’s current tactics. He’s suspicious of the whole investigation team, including his dad, so does L have someone spying on the investigation team?

The kid thinks he’s safe for now, but if he doesn’t nip this in the bud quick then it may become harder to deal with months down the line.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

Here, try this name. It could work, it might be your guy! Ready? R-I-C-K-Y G-E-R-V-A-I-S

“How should I ask his name without arousing suspicion?” Raito thinks. What could be suspicious? Like, a kid asks for the guy’s name and he’s going to be like “WHY?! SO YOU CAN WRITE IT IN YOUR DEATH NOTE AND I’LL BE DEAD IN EXACTLY 40 SECONDS?! NICE TRY.”

Ryuuku finds it prudent to butt in again at this junction. “There are two key differences between a Shinigami and a human who uses the Death Note,” the leather god says, flashing him two stupid gloved fingers with stupid rings on them. “Do you know why the Shinigami have to use the Death Note?” He presents a veritable Riddle of the Sphinx here. A real “who walks on three legs at night” affair.

For the first time in almost 300 pages, Raito cracks a smile.

It’s unsettling.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

If this were America, Raito would have shot up his school a long time ago.

Ryuuku explains that a Shinigami can “use a human’s life”, which means that if you fudge the numbers and cook the books and jot down the wrong age of the victim in the book, the difference in age is actually added to the Shinigami’s life. PAR EXEMPLE, let’s say you cause some 60-year-old pervert to snuff it while he’s stroking himself in a noose. Put his age as 40 in the book, BAM! Instant twenty years added to the Shinigami lifespan! No strings attached!

“So as long as the Shinigami doesn’t get lazy, he’ll never die,” Ryuuku smiles, “even if he gets shot or stabbed.”

But those are the only two! Drownings, decapitations, everything else applies.

Here’s what Tom wants to know! If I were a Shinigami, what would stop me from putting the victim’s age as -5,000,000? Seems like an easy way to only have to think about it…like, once.

“But I’ve seen Shinigami who died because they became too lazy and didn’t write down new names for several hundred years,” says Ryuuku, proving my nagging suspicions that these death gods are morons. No better than humans, it seems.

Oh man, check out this dingus, further proving me correct in unimaginable ways: “I’m not sure of this myself, but I heard it’s possible to kill a Shinigami.” It’s like, how stupid are you? Jesus.

Looks like Ryuuku immediately regrets the outburst that will likely be the cause of his downfall by Chapter 30. He pivots to the topic of human beings with respect to Shinigami feelings. That is to say, Shinigami are ambivalent! They don’t care if humans are happy or sad or angry or mean or nice or evil or good or having sex or pooping. Shinigami take humans for no other reason other than to pad out their own mortality. It’s sad really. Seems purposeless and nihilistic!

“Ryuuku, you’re so silly!” Raito blurts out tactlessly, a big shit-eating grin on his face. Why, every time a Shinigami comes down to Earth the human beings are all different! What, every hundred to thousands years or so? Come on! Guns, paper, electricity, Apple Watches, global warming, bitcoin? If Shinigami are so stagnant and boring, then observe the human world and apply it to YOUR world! Easy!

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

Yeah, optimistic like a nuclear fucking bomb.

And whoops, looks like Raito betrayed some suppressed, optimistic notions about humanity after all! Why not? Raito’s an optimistic kind of guy! He wants to help his world, after all! Just remember that he believes this about himself when he starts genociding like crazy.

But here’s your bubble-bursting moment anyway, Raito. You’re a fleshy, stinky human being. Gaming the death dates isn’t going to start packing the years onto your life. So that’s ONE difference between you, the stinky human, and him, the pointy death god.

Here’s another difference: “We Shinigami can simply look down on the human world, and choose which human’s name to write on the Death Note…most of the time we just pick the first human we see.”

And how does a Shinigami just magically know the name of Caohime Saorise Sinead O’Sullivan from Dublin, or Billy-Joe Bobby Bart-John Billy-Duke Barney-Bob Grady from Little Rock, Arkansas? Easy.

“THE EYE OF THE SHINIGAMI…” he says, getting two inches from Raito’s face, baring his sharp clown boy fangs. “A SHINIGAMI CAN LOOK AT A PERSON’S FACE AND SEE THEIR NAME AND LIFESPAN.”

Raito starts freaking out, filling his little jockey shorts with feces.

So here’s the pivotal point of the early story, obviously. Raito needs to figure out how he can add years to his life and how to get some Shinigami Eyes. I guess I finally confirmed my nagging suspicion that Grimes is a fan of Death Note. Of course she is.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 5

OK, weirdo, I heard you the first time.

Here’s some more Shinigami 411 for you, kid, since Ryuuku can’t seem to keep any of this to himself: when the Shinigami and the human who touched the Death Note “make a deal”, they can trade eyes.

Sounds like a bunch of rules are getting made up as we go along here to me. Next we’ll hear that Shinigamis can only be summoned on Thursdays, but only if there’s no football on TV.

There’s a price for trading eyeballs, though. Listen to this shit, Sparky, you’ll get a kick out of this. Half your remaining lifespan. If you’re due to die in 50 years, BAM! Emeril-style! It automatically becomes 25 years for a couple of these bad boys! *points to peepers*

Long story short, Ryuuku knows exactly when Raito is slated to kick the bucket, but he’s going to withhold this information for funsies.

Raito looks like he’s already made up his mind. He’s drooling like a mofo. “As long as you see their face, you will know what anyone’s name is…”

Final Thoughts

Twist! Raito has butt cancer and he’s only going to live another six days. Now it’s three. How exciting! 103 more chapters to go; expect a lot of butt cancer storyline!


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