Can, Amon Düül II – Krautrockin’ and Krautrollin’

Aha! I’ve got more music-related derelict opinions about some of the stuff I’ve been listening to in the last couple of weeks. Can? What’s that? Amon Düül II? HUH? And so on and so forth.

Can

Can

Damo Suzuki was just some guy busking in Berlin, now look at him. LOOK AT HIM.

Can is the arguably most important krautrock band of the entire movement, fighting for the top spot with Kraftwerk. Many contemporary genres and subgenres can be traced back to Can: post-punk, techno, ambient, avant-rock, trip hop, post-rock, and alternative dance. Big names that were heavily influenced by the group include Radiohead, the Fall, Brian Eno, LCD Soundsystem, Sonic Youth, even fuckin’ Kanye West. They were certainly always more accessible than the electronic noise that contemporary influencers Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream were making at the time, too.

I had admired Can for a long time, but only found the urge to listen to an album every once in a while. Mostly relegated to background music, I’d throw something like Tago Mago on while reading or writing; never really sitting down and never actually listening attentively to its hypnotic, extended grooves. When I recently started getting more into Bardo Pond and its fuzzed-out, stoned, psychedelic noodling nonsense, I began to think about the space rock and krautrock of the classic rock era: Hawkwind, Popol Vuh, Guru Guru, Ash Ra Tempel, et al. And when even that wasn’t proving to be musical enough for my RHYTHM-CRAVING BRAIN, I turned back to Can.

I never saw the problem with the debut Monster Movie. I actually like Malcolm Mooney’s horrible, phlegmy voice! Plus, for me, it served as a good connection for the early psych-rock Pink Floyd and the mesmerizing loops of classic Can. Now I love the Damo Suzuki trifecta of brilliance that is Tago Mago, Ege Bamyasi, and Future Days.

Just don’t ask me to listen to anything else post-Damo Suzuki. That’s a whole other vibe.

Amon Düül II

Amon Düül II

These rapscallions decided to play guitars and synthesizers instead of hurling pipe bombs through hospitals!

And then there’s Amon Düül II with its goddamned umlauts. I can’t think of bigger, more insufferable gang of German hippies. The band members started off, unmusically, living together in a smelly commune. Some of its members joined the extremely leftist Red Army Faction and started bombing and kidnapping politicians for ransoms and sometimes killing them! Other members created a nice band that made fun music.

I have a hard time classifying Amon Düül II as “krautrock”, and they seem to be lumped into that genre solely because of the “hi! I’m German!” part of it. They lack the mechanical repetition and motorik beats that codify other bands into the genre. For instance, I’ve never thought peak-era Can, Kraftwerk, Neu!, or Tangerine Dream were particularly psychedelic or weird, but Amon Düül II is totally both of these things. They’re the German answer to the weirdo British sensibilities of Soft Machine, Gong, and Arthur Brown.

But man are they good. The early albums are rife with extended acid-bluesy improvisations.  The middle albums are more song-oriented and sophisticated. The later albums are way more grounded, accessible, even poppy, but still delightfully strange. I personally like their sloppy debut Phallus Dei (translation: God’s Penis) and the earworms of Hijack.

I believe that anyone with an ear for early-’70s art rock and prog rock would find something love somewhere in the Amon Düül II discography. And you can take that to the bank! The spank bank.

Other Quick Thoughts

John Zorn

Look at this guy. He absolutely does not get laid.

-Speaking of krautrock, there are plenty of good semi-modern bands that follow in the footsteps of the early greats of krautrock and space rock without being complete carbon copies. They even, dare I say, add in new elements to make their own voices! In particular there’s Loop, Stereolab, Spacemen 3, Flying Saucer Attack, and Tortoise. And hey, you wouldn’t have the Fall or Ladyton or Swans either without a heaping helping of krautrock influence! So put that in your smoke and pipe it!

–John Zorn, man. He’s a total control freak spaz. Never even mind his music, his lifestyle is odd and unapologetic. He doesn’t have a kitchen in his house. Unless he was constantly banging girls while he was in Japan in the late-’80s/early-’90s, he seems to be completely asexual. He’s like a Buddhist monk who has dedicated his existence to skronking in a saxophone while real musicians play real music under him. But I kid. John Zorn deserves his own real AudioBiography blurb someday, but let’s just say I’ve been really delving into his many catalogues again recently. It took me a while to realize that I unconditionally love the guy.

-2022 doesn’t seem to be the same deluge of awesome new music we got from 2021, but the year is only half over. It being summer, I tend to gravitate toward old favorites or unheard “new to me” music from the last 60 years. The year is weird like that. Experimental prog rock or international music in the fall, extreme metal in the winter, indie rock in the spring. All three of those seasons I’m apt to devour brand new albums constantly, but summer? I dunno.

All right, thanks for reading my blither and blather! Stay tuned for the next AudioBiography installment where I discuss Vladimir Putin’s favorite country albums and why he has posters of Darius “Hootie” Rucker all over his bedroom.


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New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3 – “Infinity”

* Part 3 of 6 of the Everything Dies storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3 – “Infinity”! In the previous installment, The New Avengers Illuminati Comedy Troupe convenes for a serious discussion: the universe is literally colliding with another universe, and they need to stop it in eight hours!

So half of them are working on building an early warning system, the other half set out to find dead Professor Xavier’s Infinity Gem (gotta collect them all!), and, meanwhile, the heroes have to contemplate the possibility of destroying a world to save their own.

Heavy stuff. I hope someone ordered pizza, it’s gonna be a long night.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3 [April, 2013]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Infinity”

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

Cover analysis! Everyone’s looking at a shield on the floor EXCEPT Captain America. Remember when Captain America lost his shield in the Mark Waid story? Now the shield has lost the Captain! If I were the shield I’d try to lose myself as often as possible too. That guy’s always whipping that thing around; not really what the shield signed up for.

Opening scene! New York. Dr. Hank McCoy, aka Mr. Beast of the X-Type Men, sits behind the desk in his luxurious study reading a letter. A letter personally requested to be delivered to McCoy after Professor Xavier kicked the bucket. It was in his will and everything.

It’s a very important letter.

McCoy opens it and it’s just a piece of paper with one word written on it.

“Remember”

What a goddamned ripoff that is! No extra money? No keys to the Private Blowjob Jet? Not even a lousy thank you card? Bah.

“I will have this memory buried deep within your mind, Henry,” speaks and standing-upright-on-working-legs Professor Xavier. Beast has leaned back in his chair and tapped into the POWERS OF THE “REMEMBER” NOTE! If he’s now “remembering” that means it worked! And also Xavier is dead! So that’s, like, two good things.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

Remember what? The Alamo? The Titans? Eat a dick, Professor.

Xavier takes Beast on a little mind-walk across the room that is Xavier’s own mind-study and shows him a secret mind-vault. “I hope you understand the burden I am about to place on you is the highest praise I can offer. I also hope you can find it in your heart to someday forgive me when you find out what I have done.

If I were Beast, I’d start getting worried. What could he have possibly done? Sleep with his wife? Given him the whole school? Oh no, it’s not the Mind Gem is it? Please, Professor, if I have the gem then all those nerdy Avengers are gonna start bugging me! Please don’t. Those guys are annoying!

Xavier starts opening some panels, exposing the keypad that unlocks the vault. “Inside here are journals. Records of clandestine activities. I have been part of something that was both necessary and unthinkable.” No, please, I can see where this is going, sir! I seriously hate having to hang out with Captain America and Iron Man. Jesus fucking Christ, dude. Couldn’t you have put plane tickets to Maui in that envelope or something?

“How do you know you are special, Henry?”

“You always told me I was.”

Bleecchh. You’re a grown man. A grown beast, at least. You don’t need validation from the bald, dead Father of the Freaks! If he was so damn smart, how come he’s dead? Huh?

Beast is now alone. He looks at the keypad on the door and types in “GIFTED”. The keyboard snorts and groans and rolls its eyes and gags and then opens the door.

It’s the stupid stone.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

Ohh mmyyyyyy! That is sooo Takei!

Immediately upon acquiring the dreaded Mind Gem, the Avengers search team in charge of finding it PHASES INTO THE ROOM in a haze of ethereal, blue light. “Welcome to the rabbit hole, Doctor McCoy. Pack a bag,” demands Captain America.

I can hear Beast muttering under his breath from here. “Fuckin’ Avengers. My day is ruined.”

One day later, Beast is in that Wakandan Temple hideout getting his palms sliced open so that Reed Richards can surgically place communication devices within them. If I were Beast, I definitely wouldn’t ever forgive Professor Xavier. High praise or not, this gig sucks.

“It will broadcast certain simple commands to each of us. Run. Fight. Assemble. And so on…” explains Mr. Fantabulous. Other commands include Sit, Stay, Fetch, Roll over. Good boy.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

You thought the knife hurt? Wait ‘til I place this piping hot 1600°F chip in the wound.

Finally, Mr. Beast speaks up. “Assemble, you say? Funny that, because I don’t ever remember actually agreeing to join up with this little cabal. I’ve heard what you have to say, and…I don’t know if I should be here.”

Very reasonable. I’m sure Reed Richards will apologize, honor your feelings and decisions, and allow you to–

“The Beast makes a good point, Richards. We should take what we need and send him on his way. This one lacks the constitution for hard decisions.”

What did you just say to me, Namor, you shriveled up old butthole?

Richards respects Beast’s hesitations! After all, Beast does lack the constitution for hard decisions! Someone said that once and it stuck with him. Plus, Professor Xavier should really be here, but he died on the toilet trying to jerk off. BUT, be that as it unfortunately may, Xavier did trust you with the gem. So suck it up, and not another word about it!

That pointy and excruciatingly painful surgically-implanted palm device also acts as an interdimensional homing beacon. If you’re stuck on some Knife Planet full of stabby knives, we will find you. If you’re stuck on some Ghost Planet full of spooky ghosts, we will find you. If you slip off and travel back home to your cozy, comfy bed, we will find you! Don’t worry!

All right everyone, get in the room! Let’s test our tracking devices!

Cool, they all work. Get used to them, they’re in your palms forever.

Now we sit back and wait for one of those apocalypse dealies.

Let’s see what that gray lady is up to these days. Richards is feeding her French fries, and oh damn son are they ever delicious. Makes being captive worth it.

But enough about French fries and similar indulgences! End of the many universes coming up quick. “Have you decided upon meekness, accepting your end, or will you prepare an offering?” she asks, eatin’ dem fries.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

I’ll tell you the plan. It involves taking you down to Chinatown, baby.

Richards is like “grumble grumble we do have a plan you know”. Black Swan asks him to put his sexy money where his sexy mouth is. Richards starts talking about Infinity Gems and gauntlets and, listen, it all sounds so profoundly stupid out loud, doesn’t it? However, Black Swan is familiar with these sacred Chaos Emeralds! Only she calls them the “Ina Abanayyartu”, and I’m never writing that out again.

“This is a good plan,” she admits, “the stones will not work outside their native universe, so they have limitations. But the stones will buy you time.”

Reed Richards is quite chuffed at this compliment! Then she tells him that all that bought time will run out before you succeed! lol! This makes him sad, and he then announces that they are done here. Ridicule our ideas, huh? We’re the fucking Avengers, lady. The new ones.

So Reed “Between the Lines” Richards takes his leave and Black Swan meditates for four straight days. On the fourth day, she opens her fire-red eyeballs and proclaims “Rabum Alal”. This may be important, make a note. I’m not gonna make a note, but maybe you can for me.

The Gang of Teenage Mutant Ninja Avengers assembles on a Pakistani mountain. They need to spread out and find something, but what that “something” is exactly? I’m not sure. It may be important, make a note of this too! You’ll be making a lot of notes for me.

Iron Man uses his Pentium 8505 processor and hones in on the precise location of their mystery “something”. Forty yards up the face of the mountain. About half a football field. Start hoofin’.

There is not only 6 hours, 37 minutes, and 45 seconds until the universe implodes. No more lollygagging. Namor finds the “something”, the invisible portal to the scary red dimension and the team starts crossing the threshold. They all make a note of how peaceful and unassuming the atmosphere is, giving everyone the booboo-jeebies.

The six gem-holders huddle together and present their shiny little round rocks.

“Focus on the gems. Imagine the six becoming one…remember…they want to be together.”

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

Taste the rainbow.

It’s a veritable gangbang of spiritual and supernatural proportions. The gems join with the Infinity Gauntlet. If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit.

…

“What now?” asks Captain America, bored. Now, my dense friend, the gauntlet is to be used to push the other Earth – the other universe – away. Yeah? And who’s gonna do that? Captain America doesn’t wanna do it! He tries to pass the buck to literally anyone else there, but Iron Man insists. This was your plan, doofus. WE all wanted to commit fiendish atrocities, but nooooo! You didn’t want to hear any of that! Wear the stupid glove, Steve.

“Okay,” he says simply as he advances toward the luminescent, floating glove. He puts it on his hand and it feels like his dick just grew another six inches! So powerful! Wowee Zowee!

The others simply marvel at the beauty of Steve Rogers pushing a planet away with a focused glove beam. So radiant. So decadent.

“Steve! You have to push it away! You have to send it back to end the incursion!” yells Iron Man, carefully attempting to avoid too many three-syllable words.

Stephen Strange declares Cap’s victory, but Reed senses something off. Iron Man senses it too. Weird vibrations. In his pants.

The team gets blown back by blinding, white light that goes “ZZHHRRNNGGGG”.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

Imbeciles! Those were expensive!

“What was that? What just happened?” Beast stutters. Cap says he tried one more final push, but the sky bit back! Now everything’s gone and ruined! Oh me! Oh my!

“You just killed us all, you incompetent fool!” shrieks the over-emotional Namor. Gotta agree with the angry seaman on this one. He punches Cap in the jaw. Cap absorbs the punch pretty well.

Beast watches from afar as Cap retaliates, and now the rest of the team is in a petulant skirmish pile. He’s probably thinking “yeah, I should’ve just stayed home. These guys really are the worst.”

Later, back at Necropolis, Captain America does some alone time staring pver the large city landscape. “Everyone’s ready to reconvene,” Black Panther tells him, but Cap ain’t ready. It’s just been a lot of angry purple-faced screaming. It’s more peaceful out on the balcony away from all the damn screaming. It’s a nice, peaceful city, this Necropolis. “Necropolis is a city populated by the spirits of noble warriors who never knew defeat. It’s your kind of place,” Black Panther comments, “We have to go. It’s time.”

Captain America stops him. He already knows what this meeting is going to be all about. Compromising their values for the sake of expediency. Justifying the necessary evil option. Fuck that! America don’t play that! “I’m not going to just sit there and watch it happen. I can’t.”

Cap needs T’Challa’s word, right here, right now. “Are you with me?”

And that sly cat, he walks away going “When have you ever known me not to do the right thing?”

Captain shuffles into the dark meeting room, hoists up his cajones, and tells the team that “yeah, sure, maybe I couldn’t use the glove properly. So fucking what? I still stopped the incursion, bitches!”

Strange disagrees. Sure, maybe this incursion was stopped, but what about a possible next one. What if it happens in ten minutes? Stones are gone. No glove, no love.

New Avengers (Vol. 3), Issue #3

No, you’re the poopy head, Reed.

Well, be that as it may, Cap still wants to consider non-atrocity options. Right T’Challa?

T’Challa disagrees! He has to put his nation first. His own desires mean squat. “Doing the right thing” didn’t mean “doing whatever Captain America wants”. And, in T’Challa’s opinion, he will do whatever it takes to help his people.

Captain America goes around the room to try to guilt everyone into agreeing with him. Nobody does. Not the silent Black Bolt. Not Hank “Tossed Salad and Scrambled Eggs” McCoy. Not Reed “It and Weep” Richards. Nobody.

“You will wake up one day and have no idea who is looking back at you in the mirror,” Captain America warns to Richards. To everybody, really. He sees how this will play out: they’ll build a dangerous machine, then they’ll debate over when the correct time and situation occurs to justify using it, then one by one, they will be ok with their decision. “We’re doing it for the right reasons. There’s no other choice. It’s the lesser of two evils.”

He turns to Stark. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

Stark sinks about three inches, looking all coy and sheepish.

“Dammit, Steve. Why do you always have to be this way?” Stark grumbles.

Cap goes “buh?”

“Do it, Stephen,” Stark instructs Strange.

Dr. Strange uses his Cumberbatch powers to render Steve thoroughly memory-wiped.

He lies there on the floor like an amnesia-riddled dumbass.

Final Thoughts

Give it two more issues before everyone starts kissing Cap’s dick, apologizing and hoping they’ll forgive him. Especially Namor. He’s done a lifetime of dick apology-kissin’.


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Andrew Bird, Belle and Sebastian, and Jenny Hval

Keeping it fluffy and light today, with the soft, soothing sounds of Andrew Birdman, Ariel and Sebastian and Belle and Gaston, and Jenny Hvhvhvhv. I promise next time I’ll shove in the usual disgusting, incomprehensible, heavy metal devil music from Romania (not a guarantee).

Andrew Bird – Inside Problems
(June 3, 2022)

Andrew Bird - Inside Problems

If the album art and name didn’t tip you off already, this is an album of introspection and emotional unease. Perhaps this is yet another post-lockdown album, and Bird spent a lot more time sitting and stewing with his thoughts this time around. And maybe that’s why his violin is more turbulent than I’ve ever heard it before.

I’ve always thought Andrew Bird was a top-notch singer-songwriter and bandleader. For one thing he’s pretty smart, and he knows how to keep his lyrics grounded, convincing, and wry. He’s also totally unpretentious and congenial, which is fucking FANTASTIC and I’d like more of that please from my musicians. Inside Problems is yet another solid addition to Bird’s already solid discography, compiling a collection of whimsically jazzy Appalachian folk. Eclectic and quirky, yet totally unalienating.

The music is almost always bouncy and cheerful even when the lyrics aren’t, but Bird uses his violin to great effect when he wants to add some tension. “Lone Didion”, for example, finishes off with the most avant-garde solo that I’ve ever heard from him. That arguably isn’t saying too much, but all the scraping and plucking over a steady, simply drum/bass beat is certainly captivating. Then there’s the title track that uses a molting bird (pun possibly intended) as a metaphor for the gained wisdom of aging. The highlight is “Make a Picture”. Gorgeous cello, an engaging motorik beat, folksy charm. “Make a picture, make it snappy/Make a picture, don’t look so happy“…

Finally, this is the best-sounding album I’ve heard so far in 2022. Everything is crisp and clear in the mix. There’s an absence of the dreaded over-slickness, the kind of overproduced sterility that can completely ruin music like this if you’re not careful. Not at all here. This is a masterpiece of music production done right.

Buy this album on vinyl like the hipster dork you are.

Early Verdict:

Belle and Sebastian – A Bit of Previous
(May 6, 2022)

Belle and Sebastian - A Bit of Previous

Bands like Belle and Sebastian reclaimed the derogatory descriptor “twee” and contributed to the precious indie pop movement that started in the late ’90s. I used to hate them for this. I pulled my head out of my ass and came around a little bit. It has its merits, especially if they’re genuine.

Granted, I’m not much of a Belle and Sebastian historian. This is the first album of theirs I’m listening to! How about that! But a lot of what I’m hearing here sounds like a way more whimsical  permutation of the Dan Bejar-led songs from mid-career New Pornographers. And I adore the New Pornographers! “Talk To Me, Talk To Me” and “Unnecessary Drama” sound especially like New Pornographers tracks, like they took songs off their cutting room floor and slapped some Scottish accents and a damn harmonica over them. This is a compliment.

I had pegged this band as a clean, shoegazey dream pop, like Slowdive or Wild Nothing, so COLOR ME SURPRISED when I heard real energy to a lot of cuts here.  Some of these songs rock pretty hard. Even with the Jethro Tull flutiness and the Rick Wakeman keyboardiness of the aforementioned “Talk To Me, Talk To Me”, it has a fantastic high-octane melody and a squealing guitar solo to boot. But then there’s the slow, sentimental stuff like “Do It for Your Country” and “Sea of Sorrow” which can be a little too sappy for me musically and lyrically for me to take them seriously.

Musical diversity makes up for sappiness. The dancey “Prophets on Hold” and the lounge jazzy “Come on Home” are interesting. The band goes all out on the slow, positive, gospel “If They’re Shooting at You”, which is complete with handclaps and a female backup choir. And I can’t help but enjoy the bouncy melody of the opener “Young and Stupid” along with all the symbolism of years gone by…

I like this, but I don’t love it. I could see this kind of sweetly positive indie music growing on me over time; it has most of the elements I like in my orchestral pop. Lucky for me, if/when that happens, I have ten other Belle and Sebastian albums I can dig into.

Early Verdict:

Jenny Hval – Classic Objects
(March 11, 2022)

Jenny Hval - Classic Objects

I made my acquaintanceship with Jenny Hval after she released Apocalypse, girl, her third studio album under her own name, in 2015. That was back when I was absorbing anything and everything that received even minor critical praise (before children, obviously, when I had way more time). Even thought 2016’s Blood Bitch was a greater commercial success, which brought her a lot more attention in indie circles, I remain partial to the slow unease of Apocalypse, girl. I remember being charmed and captivated by spoken-word snippets of poetry such as “I search the oven, scrub the racks, put my whole head inside…but I just can’t find it.” and “But I keep growing older, eight years since 25 now, and all that ages now is the body. I wonder why. I think to myself one of these days, everything I write begins with the question: what’s wrong with me?“. Yes, I’m charmed by the strangest stuff. What of it?

This one is even better, though. There’s more actual singing from Hval, although she continues to split duties fairly evenly between the singing and the talking. The atmosphere is even more disquieting than suggested by the, er, apocalyptic theme of Apocalypse, girl. It’s in a different way, though. The sound is certainly fuller, maybe even more elegant and graceful, but the painted picture is that of groundedness precariously teetering off the edge. Still optimistic, but bound to topple.

I suppose that all means that this listening experience is quite pleasant, but it’s a little off, and that’s the element that makes it way more engaging. “Year of Love” starts things off with slowly-building ’80s worldbeat while Hval talk-sings abstractly about the construct of marriage and the societal ramifications. With her childlike voice.

Elsewhere, in tracks like “Classic Objects” or “Cemetery of Splendour”, she weaves back and forth between stream-of-consciousness talking and regular ol’ singing, with the music serving as a hazy, minimal backdrop to her poetry. But everything is definitely more musical than I’ve heard in the past. It’s ambient, otherworldly, and eerie. It reminds me of Yo La Tengo at their most pensive and methodical while keeping a steady beat going. “Cemetery of Splendour” is the longest song at seven minutes, but it evolves and builds into one of the album’s deepest grooves. The coolest part is when Hval sings this ghostly siren song while talking over it with a weird schizophrenic grocery list of disjointed thoughts (“Bamboo leaf, bamboo leaf again, and the branch, the branch, the pinecones, and the birds in the distance, gum, gum, gum, cigarette butt, candy wrapper, a button, a slug, shoes came here and here and here, someone once lay down here, but the trees, the trees“), ending with a percussion shuffle, nighttime crickets, and a low, crackling fire.

Sounds like complete bullshit, right? Au contraire. Give this a listen, I don’t do it justice here, pounding out random keys with my stupid face.

Early Verdict:


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Superman: Birthright, Issue #4

Superman: Birthright, Issue #4 – “Part Four”

* Part 4 of 12 of the Superman: Birthright limited series *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Superman: Birthright, Issue #4 – “Part Four”! How tremendously creative. I hope the name of this issue doesn’t foreshadow any laziness of the writing. In the previous installment, Martha Kent helps his son cobble together a secret identity while Jon Kent grunts and bottles up emotions and, eventually, shares his conflicting feelings on the whole matter.

After a quick recalibration of the Clark Kent persona, spectacles and all, Clark has a ticket to Metropolis ready in hand. Time to make it big in the big city, you little scamp!

Superman: Birthright, Issue #4 [December, 2003]
Written by: Mark Waid
“Part Four”

Superman: Birthright: Issue #4

Oh no, is that Lois Lane falling from an open window? And on Clark Kent’s first day on the job? We’ll see. Nothing but trouble already.

Metropolis is stupidly huge. They even stole landmarks from other cities! I see the St. Louis Gateway Arch, something that looks like the Washington Monument, and lookee there? Is that Trump Tower! Just kidding! Or am I?

Clark is taking a cab through the congested downtown streets. The cab driver can barely hear him over all the traffic noise. “I was wondering about the army copters in the sky. What’s going on?” Clark asks the driver, who no doubt has all the insight into military operations to readily share with a random passenger.

But he does! “The mayor has permitted our military to test some sort of ‘automatic anti-terrorist’ aircraft this fine afternoon. Rather unsettling, I must say – but then, given the manner in which we volley between yellow and orange alerts, I suppose we do what we must to feel safer, yes?”

The cab driver himself looks like he gets racially profiled by the Metropolis police no less than 30 times per day, considering these are still tumultuous post-9/11 times. Clark sees a street vendor selling $400 World War II-era gas masks.

“Nowadays, it is as if everyone is simply waiting for trouble to occur as a natural course. If it takes something in the sky to give them hope, so be it,” the cab driver continues while Clark shoots another one of his patented baboon-IQ faces.

Cabbie asks Clark why the fuck he doesn’t know any of this already? Is he under a rock? Kinda! Even though this guy literally grew up in the heartland of America, his feeble alien brain is having trouble absorbing this cultural shift. Obviously.

Clark gets dropped off at the Daily Planet for his interview. The place is swarming with activity. Cubicles filled with busy button-pushers. Clark gets to see some action already! A man named Quentin Galloway is pouring his trash over the head of some poor intern who accidentally got him the wrong flavor of frozen yogurt.

Superman: Birthright, Issue #3

You should see him on his bad days. So much feces…

Clark breaks a stapler in his hand trying to contain his rage, but a woman rushes over to the scene to start berating Galloway: “You think you’re a big shot? Publicly humiliating an employee because you’re in a bad mood about frogurt is small and it is petty.”

Tough words! The intern is Jimmy Olsen, who I only learned about as Clark’s buddy from the New 52 Action Comics. The chick is obviously Lois Lane, you guys.

Galloway isn’t letting some broad talk to him that way! “Lois Lane. Didn’t you used to be somebody? Why aren’t you on the trail of some U.F.O. or crop circle or some other oogity-boogity slow news day?”

Listen man, she may be in the business of oogities, but she is certainly not in the business of boogities! She tells him to back the fuck off. Galloway pays for the journalists’ work, not their dignities. Stop bullying little red-head punks like Jimmy Olsen around!

Superman: Birthright, Issue #3

Duuurrrrrrrr

“I think I’m in love,” Clark whispers to himself, loud enough for the other guy to hear.

Galloway has more to say. “Six months ago, you had a reputation. You had respect. Not mine, of course, but apparently that of your peers.” It seems Lois has been traveling quite a bit lately, trying to chase down reports all over the world of a flying leather-jacket-and-khaki-clad hero! Nutso! Crazy! Bonkers! Cockamamie! Jibba Jabba! “Lois Lane’s Loony Lark” they’re all calling it!

Panels are lousy with action shots of Clark’s chimp face as he watches the scene.

Lois says there were hundreds of witnesses to such a man catching a falling space shuttle a few weeks ago. Meanwhile, Galloway argues, there are hundreds of other witnesses telling a different story. And NASA! Fuhgeddaboutit! They deny everything!

Lois tells Galloway to stop poisoning the newsroom with childishness, then she slams the frogurt on the big, ugly, bald man’s chest. “You’re a leader. I expect better from you.”

They meet eyes for a few moments, then Galloway storms off silently. Jimmy lends his gratitude. Lois tells him that she may consider updating his restraining order to thirty feet of distance instead of fifty feet. There’s a good lad.

Clark speaks up like a completely socially unintelligent spaz, causing me to cringe uncontrollably.

Lois Lane has been through this before. “By now, Galloway has called Perry and they’re deciding what Perry can trade this time to keep me on the staff.” In other words, yes, it won’t be the last time that she’ll be covering her direct supervisor with frozen yogurt in this particular office.

Superman: Birthright, Issue #3

Not anymore, creep! Fuck this newspaper, it’s full of men.

“Mr. Kent? Editor White will see you now,” says a purple-haired secretary.

Clarky gonna get him some gainful employment!

Not so fast! Lois Lane hears the name and recognizes it. Kent’s the one that did that piece on Kobe Asuru, right? Meh. She wasn’t that impressed, dude. I mean it was fine, but…like, I don’t know, you write like a tall guy. You’re not tall enough. Well, bye.

The interview with Perry White doesn’t go so well. First of all, Clark spends ten minutes staring at his shoes and muttering. “How did someone as shy as you get an interview with Qerzian terrorists? Or Chief Justice Benton?” Perry demands, making up both a country and a Chief Justice. “Why do you want to work here? Spit it out, Kent!”

Clark’s pooping his pants with the force and strength of 100 pooping men. Then he regains composure and makes his case. Because, sir, the New York Times sucks eggs, and while they’re still scrambling, like so many eggs, for sources… the Daily Planet already has their stories printed and on the web and they’ve already moved on. Just ask my last girlfriend. I’m THAT fast as well! Heh heh.

“I need to be where the speed of information is Priority One. My work depends on spotting trouble as it breaks.”

Perry White perks up a little bit at this, then invites Clark to tell him anything else on his mind. After a few sweaty moments, Clark accidentally slaps a whole mug of pens off of White’s desk. Oopsie-daisy!

“Kent, here’s the tragedy,” White starts to give Clark some bad news. The planes hit the Towers two years ago! Also this: “My reporters are the best because they are never afraid to write the truth– and, son, you have got fear written all over you. I can’t use you.”

I don’t even want to imagine how much poop is coming out right now. Clark protests, and White asks him to prove it! Right here and now! Come on, son! Show me what you got! *unzips pants* LET’S GO! NO FEAR!

And, luckily enough, like an angel sent from heaven, a perfect opportunity to show Clark’s fearlessness presents itself in the form of a motherfucking airstrike at the office building.

Superman: Birthright, Issue #3

Yo, President Bush, this isn’t an Afghani wedding! Don’t you have innocent children to kill somewhere else?

Clark stands up after covering White on the floor. White starts screaming at another reporter. “Didn’t you file a story saying this was impossible? That they’re not even armed?”

The reporter, Mike, is frothing and wheezing. “That’s what I was told, I swear!”

Mr. Three-Piece-Suit Kent starts slinking away as clandestinely as possible. “Please don’t let me look ridiculous,” he whispers a quiet wish to God as he rips off his clothes in a secret…corner…I guess, revealing his iconic SuperbMan costume.

Perry White yells for Lois to call the Pentagon to get some answers on why these military crafts are firing on their lowly newspaper office building, but Lois is preoccupied at the moment running to the roof to try to get the scoop firsthand. Don’t worry, Jimmy-Jammy Olsen, she can fly a helicopter! Army Brat! She takes the newscopter, you know, without permission. Fearless. Just like they want at the Daily Planet.

You think fatass Galloway can fly the copter? He’d crash into the doughnut shop. Lois Lane sees “FRONT PAGE” written all over this shit!

“Ms. Lane, LOOK OUT!” Olsen screams as Lane low-key flies right into one of these mysterious military ships, tearing up all the goddamned copter blades less than ten seconds after takeoff. Jimmy falls right out of it, too. lol. Couldn’t have gone worse.

But don’t worry, AN UNMASKED MAN WEARING CHICAGO CUBS COLORS SAVES BOTH THE FALLING KID AND THE DESTROYED HELICOPTER WITH THE LADY STILL IN IT.

Superman: Birthright, Issue #3

Calm down, nerd.

Plenty of people on the street witness this brave act. How could they not? It’s a pretty fucked up thing to happen.

Lois Lane is beside herself with excitement. It’s really him! But, hey, thanks for saving her and all, but there’s still some weird military-type copters firing bullets and shit. Do something about that, ok? Thx.

So he takes off again with that smug Superman face that I just want to hit with a bat. He finds two of these vehicles trying to strike civilians on the ground. Once Superman braces himself, he catches a glimpse of a scowling, bald man through a highrise window. Kevin Spacey? Very close!

“Lex…?” he says, completely distracted. A round of fire connects with his chest and sends him flying through a building.

Is Superman dead?

Hopefully!

Final Thoughts

Way to crash the company helicopter on the same day you splatter frozen yogurt on your boss, Lois Lane, you loose cannon.

Are there comics where Clark and Lex were secret high school lovers? I’d read the shit out of that for real.


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Paper Girls, Issue #5

Paper Girls, Issue #5

* Part 5 of 5 of the Paper Girls Volume 1 storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: Paper Girls, Issue #5! In the previous installment, the two teenage mutant ninja alien types direct the girls to help find a healing device to save Erin’s life. En route through the sewers, a mysterious orb entity with robot eyeball extensions, called an Editrix, ambushed the group. The Editrix was sent into pursuit by the weird adult rangers with the robot suits and the Halo swords. Tiff’s life flashed before her eyes (months upon months of playing Arkanoid on the NES) before the Editrix was destroyed.

Eventually, the group encounters a large capsule similar to the one the girls found in a basement of new construction. The mutant teenagers take Erin into the capsule and disappear, leaving the three conscious girls completely rattled.

What’s going on! I don’t know! And this is the last issue of the first collection. Let’s see if we even get ONE answer!

Paper Girls, Issue #5 [February, 2016]
Written by: Brian K. Vaughan

Paper Girls, Issue #5

The doors of the Healing/Abduction Pod are open. We see Erin’s point of view: a large warehouse with tall shelves. A black obelisk with an Apple logo stands right in the middle. Understandably, she’s in a confused daze. Maybe because her family is a staunch Windows 2.1 household! I dunno.

“She’s coming to. Better grab a SquawkBox for yourself, pal,” Heck calls over to Naldo, who grumbles in Alienese and looks for a translator. Heck introduces themselves to Erin; they both brought her to their “Whenhouse”. As in, it doesn’t matter ware, but when! Ha! Jokes!

“We had to find some junk in here to patch you up,” he says while Naldo (the more grotesque-looking of the two by far) grabs his own SquawkBox, as it were, and joins in on the conversation. Erin can’t feel her legs, but Naldo tells her not to worry. That feeling will pass. “Just let the bugs do their work.”

Erin looks down vaguely at her stomach, where there are literal bugs crawling around her gunshot wound. Just rootin’ around in there.

It’s pretty gross, actually.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Oh yeah, no problem. This is totally normal and fine.

“…I think I’m gonna throw up,” Erin grimaces. These bugs are called iNsecs, and they might be little robots? Anyway, don’t throw up on those, they were hard to steal!

Right, just like they stole Tiffany’s walkie-talkie! It’s all coming back again! Erin puts on her angry face, but these two are proud of their pillaging. “Yeah, can you believe we found this badass spaceship in some dump?” Heck grins, referring to the fake Healing/Abduction Pod. These kids aren’t time-travelers after all. Time travel isn’t even feasible! Earth keeps revolving around the sun; if you travel back in time one hour, you’re gonna be gasping for air as the cold vacuum of space outgasses every atom in your body, ya ninny.

ANYHOO, they’re, like, time and space travelers! Don’t worry about it. Sit tight, they’re going to launch this pod back to the mesosphere of ‘88, or whatever. Again, don’t worry about it. It’ll take too long to explain! Just sit tight, kid, you’re going back home. Bugs and all.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Yeah, well, sometimes it’s extremely hard to tell the difference between the two.

As they’re whizzing past time and space, Naldo observes some “old-timers” trying to “ground them”. Heck panics and entertains the idea of “breaking curfew”. Naldo angrily tells his comrade that fucking with the “tributary” in such a manner is “suicide”. Heck tells him to “suck Superman’s dick”. I made that last one up! Hard to tell, right? Ha ha! Looks like my commentary is pretty worthless, huh? Gotta buy your own copy of the issue then, huh? *winks at the camera*

Guess what, friends? Here’s the part where I totally hyperventilate nerdily over the time-travel plot device, because the fun begins. After a few modulations and activations by Heck, the space pod lurches, fizzles, bumps, and jumps.

And the space pod ends up in the basement of the new construction home! THAT’S RIGHT, BITCHES. We have entered the paradox. Start sucking it.

Conveniently, it’s about this time that KJ decides that the basement is not something to be overlooked. For whatever reason, she has a feeling that the three of them MUST go back there. They NEEDS MUST, you might say. “Why? You think we can use that other capsule-thing to chase after the one they used to kidnap Erin?” Mac asks, but no. Clearly, she hasn’t caught on yet. This is Back to the Future II, kids. “I’m thinking there never was an other,” KJ postulates openly, because they’ve all seen enough crazy shit in the last six hours already. Let’s just pile more on. Bring it.

Nah, no time for that at the moment. The Pterodactyl Lady showed up. “Come ashore peacenik now, aye?”

“JESUS CHRIST!” yells a bug-eyed Mac.
“Please don’t kill us! We…we totally give up!” yells a desperate KJ.
“Actually. We don’t,” states a gun-totin’ NRA member Tiff.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Listen, we ALL get a turn to hold the gun.

Now it’s KJ’s turn to be appalled that Tiff has the gun. My, how the tables have turned right round, baby, right round.

“I’m not gonna stand here and be eaten by some bitch’s dinosaur,” Tiff takes a bold stance here. No more Arkanoid. Time to be a woman. Kickin’ ass and chewin’ bubblegum and all that Rowdy Roddy Piper nonsense. Oh snap! They Live didn’t get released until November 4, 1988! That’s still, like, three days away. “Stay back!” she yells. Excitement.

“Common, grrl, clear yain’t de kind what can end and human’s being,” says Cardinal, sounding thickly Scottish in my head. And yeah, maybe she’s right, maybe Tiff doesn’t have the GUTS to kill this lady. “But I’ve got no problem killing it,” she says, referring to the Pterodactyl thing. She points her gun at the it in question.

Woof, sir. It’s enough for even Cardinal to get worried. Tiff cocks the hammer (yeah baby). Cardinal stands down. Tiff wins. Don’t harm the pet.

Mac clandestinely steals Cardinal’s Halo sword right from her grasp while KJ runs her mouth off about the gun not even being loaded. This causes Mac to turn quickly to yell at her for being stupid. She accidentally presses a button on the Halo sword in the process. The Halo sword blasts the ground in front of Cardinal. Cardinal flies back. There’s a lot going on here, pay attention. Cardinal bumps her head on a tree. You paying attention? The dinosaur flies away. OK, that’s all.

While Mac hopes she didn’t just kill this lady, the other two want to book it before any more of her kind show up. Eventually, with the girls long gone, Cardinal comes to and dizzily radioes the beard guy with the music shirts. He’s wearing an Apple Records shirt now, pouring himself some coffee. “De yung locals b harmed & dangereux,” Cardinal tells him, “Nochoiced but to try as adults.”

What say you, Old Bearded One? It’s a hard no. “I’ll punish them myself,” he tells her as he walks through his giant hallway full of kidnapped people floating in stasis within pink tubes.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

You know, some people collect stamps.

Erin has another nightmare. It’s 1980, she’s about four, and her dad is watching the news. John Lennon was just shot with a gun (by Paul McCartney, just sayin’). Her dad is crying on the couch. “Why are you sad?” Erin asks, and her father tells her that he’s more afraid than sad. Well, little 4-year-old Erin didn’t know that grown-ups could get scared too. “Oh honey…we’re terrified,” he says, pulling his face out of his hands, revealing a scary, melting abomination! Just a big, gross, Hell Face! Boo!

Then Erin wakes up. The bugs have finished stitching her up; she’s surprised to even be alive. In fact, there’s not a scratch on her!

Heck and Naldo, though, they’re both phased into each other: Heck’s right hand through Naldo’s skull. Naldo’s left arm through Heck’s right leg. Big-time like an Ezra Orion / Hell Demon hybrid situation from East of West! Naldo’s probably dead. Ahhh, Naldo. We hardly knew ye.

“…ship kept us…all in stasis…as long as it could…but…I’m worried…our storage cells…coulda cracked…so you need to…vamoose…” pants Heck in a veritable party of ellipses and near-death exposition dialogue. Erin starts blubbering a little bit, asking why these complete strangers would do so much to help? Because, dingus, y’all girls reminded them of themselves! Just some good guys lookin’ to be good guys in the world. Ok, dead now.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Click your heels together three times, sister.

Warning alarms start going off within the pod, complete with jarring gobbledygook screeching over the speakers. I still can’t read any of that language. It probably says something like “Alert! Pizza Rolls are done!”

Erin slams her fists against the window in panic. Through no efforts of her own, the pod hatch opens up to the scenic basement. Her friends are already there waiting. “Holy crap, I was right!” KJ shrieks with joy as Erin stumbles out all woozy and…well, no longer crawling with bugs, at least.

Tiff wonders aloud if this means that Erin was passed out in that pod the entire time that they were all there earlier checking out the pod? Personally, I think that’s fascinating! But Mac doesn’t care one iota about this time-travel nerd shit. Erin’s here, she’s alive, that’s all that matters right now god fucking damnit and such.

Erin sings the praises of the two weirdo mutant teenagers. They didn’t rape her in the mouth, no sir, not at all, not one bit. They saved her life! And now they’re dead! lmao. It’s better than what you guys did. You guys fucking shot her in the stomach, you maniacs.

Oh sure, NOW the other three girls are suddenly sad that these walkie-talkie stealing assholes bit the big one. Well, so be it. There’s bigger fish to fry right now! For starters, this space pod gizmo is leaking fuel or something, so they can’t stay down there too long lest they suffocate in these oh-so-sweet fumes! “I don’t know how much you remember,” KJ calmly informs the time-traveling girl, “but things aren’t exactly much safer out there.”

And these kids can’t catch a break for five minutes. Apple Records Flip-Flip-Wearin’ Beard-Havin’ Pink Tube Collector is right outside the house, yelling for their attention. “Listen to your elders and come outside this instant!” he says patronizingly, flanked by Cardinal the Steel Soldier and her Pet Pterodactyl.

“I’m sure you’re confused, but whatever those juvenile delinquents in there told you is completely untrue. You have waded deep into a very old…generational conflict.”

Weird Beard calls these now-dead kids “a murderous gang of thugs”. They steal from the past to fund the future.

“The Tree of Knowledge,” Erin says vaguely, staring at the dude’s Apple Records shirt, remembering the recurring visions of apples in her dreams. That strange, all-encompassing humming begins again. VMMMMMMM. Pink light grows brighter and brighter, emanating from the basement, as if the pod is going to explode at any moment. What to do? Can’t stay in the house. Can’t leave the house. A real pickle!

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Someone get the gun out again. It’s got to work out for us one of these times.

The humming gets even louder. The pink light gets even brighter. The whole house is aglow. Even the old man is getting scared, pooping his pants, but he was probably doing that anyway. He’s probably wearing a diaper.

The entire house warps away, leaving a smoking crater in the ground. A montage of the four girls floating through time and space is shown, signifying the important event of LEAVING 1988. They all land on a deserted street. Well, three of them do. KJ is missing.

A car approaches. Tiff lost the gun. What to do now? Why, the Paper Girl gambit sounds reasonable. Erin stands up and starts waving her arms frantically: “Excuse me! My name is Erin Tieng, I deliver newspapers, and…and my friends and I need help, please.”

The car stops. A woman gets out. “Is this a joke?” she asks. The three girls stand there SHOCKED and SPEECHLESS and A LITTLE BIT HUNGRY?

The woman has chin-length hair, an iPod in her front pocket, an earbud in one ear, one earbud dangling down.

Paper Girls, Issue #5

Yeah yeah yeah, who the fuck isn’t Erin Tieng these days?

Final Thoughts

WHAT! Who didn’t see this one coming?! HABLABAHANAHABAHAHB!

This is the end of the first “storyline”, so to speak, but I’m going to keep going. Too intriguing. Fuck East of West! At least for now. Paper Girls is where it’s at.


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