Wet Leg, Cosmic Putrefaction, and Arcade Fire

One deliberate week off and I already feel like I’m getting my weekly review mojo back, but let’s not be hasty. Tom deserves a break now and then. More “now” than “then”, but I’ll be the last person to really admit that. I do have three new reviews today (“today” defined loosely because it’s already literally 11:40pm) and TWO of them only came out less than two weeks ago. I formed opinions already! That’s how you know they’re good! Or bad! Or neutral! I guess you can never tell, can you?

Wet Leg, Cosmic Putrefaction, and Arcade Fire. Fuck, marry, kill? Which ones would you choose? Send your submissions to TuckerCarlson@foxnews.com!

Wet Leg – Wet Leg
(April 8, 2022)

Yeah, this was the one everyone was waiting for in the indie circles and it turned out to be a minor disappointment. Big whoop. It’s a tale as old as time! Move on with your lives.

Ever since “Chaise Longue” was dropped last June and became an international sensation, people have been salivating over the eventual release of their eponymous debut. SALIVATING! DROOLING! Hype hype hype hype! Was it their cheeky take on melodic post-punk? Was it their relatable self-deprecating mode of expression? Was it the fact that they’re from the Isle of Wight? Who can say! Hopefully it’s not the third thing, that’s not that interesting at all even though I keep hearing it being brought up by boring people like me.

After “Chaise Longue”, a few more singles trickled in through the rest of 2021. Wet Leg’s debut was going to be THE album of 2022! And here it is, it was released over a month ago, it got fair-to-great reviews, and everyone already forgot about it because it was underwhelming to the base at large. People were expecting the next Dry Cleaning, and maybe it is to some degree, but 2021 is a tough act to follow for post-punk debuts. I think much of Wet Leg‘s songs are airy in a way that feels like a throwback to early childhood pop/punk sensibilities instead of propelling music as an artform forward in any meaningful way. I know that’s a tall order for any band, but therein lies the unfortunate byproduct of hype.

It’s completely unfair to judge the music on the unfulfilled hype, so how about I put it this way: Wet Leg is enjoyable and brimming with diverse musical ideas, but much of it is padded with flimsy concepts and shallow philosophy. The worst offender here is “Oh No”, which is supposed to be about smartphone anxiety, I guess. Doesn’t sound like there’s much real social commentary behind half-hearted barely-rhyming phrases like “Oh my God/Life is hard/Credit card/Oh no — You’re so woke/Diet Coke/I feel gross/Oh no“. Most of the rest of tracks are barely a notch above this. You’ve already heard the “Chaise Longue” innuendo.

But yeah, maybe a lot of it is just angsty and disillusioned, and that’s fine too. But even with respect to that I hear a lot of David Bowie and Alvvays and Björk and Yeah Yeah Yeahs and White Stripes. And I think I just want to know what Wet Leg sounds like when they’re being Wet Leg. I don’t think we’ve really heard that yet.

Early Verdict:

Cosmic Putrefaction – Crepuscular Dirge for the Blessed Ones
(May 6, 2022)

Gross, yet vaguely metaphysical band name? Check. Gross, yet vaguely metaphysical album name? Check. Ominous, not really gross, but vaguely religious and/or spiritual album art? Check. I know what to expect, and I already know I’m correct.

This is an approachable dissonant death metal album that focuses its sound more on mind-bending methodological song structures than merely brute force and disgusting, pus-and-blood themes. Usually, in my experience, these more cerebral themes are reserved for the black metal end of the extreme metal spectrum, but there’s nothing black metal about Crepuscular Dirge for the Blessed Ones at all. Pure, chunky death metal with a dash of psychedelic seasoning!

This is one of the first death metal records of 2022 that really caught my ear immediately. It brings to mind Blood Incantation (at least the album from a few years ago, Hidden History of the Human Race, not so much the one that just came out in February). A galactic perspective on a usually terrestrial metal subgenre. For example, I really like those soaring synth notes that pop up from time to time, like at the end of “Sol’s Upheaval Debris” and “Cradle Wrecked, Curtains Unfurled”. It gives the beefy riffs a strange vibe, like you’re being briefly jaunted through another dimension. Momentarily untethered from reality.

I have the most fun with “Amniotic Bewilderment”, which spends a good portion of its duration alternating between calculated, accessible melodic phrases and frenetic, urgent cacophony. They eventually overlap as the powerful lead guitar fights to be heard. I can’t get enough of this track.

So, yeah, I’m pretty gung-ho over this album already. Crank up the volume and tear into a huge chunk of raw meat on a Friday night.

Early Verdict:

Arcade Fire – WE
(May 6, 2022)

Do you remember when Arcade Fire put out an album in 2013 and some people were a little disillusioned by the dance-rock direction? Do you remember when Arcade Fire put out an album in 2017 and some people hated that the band leaned harder into the dance-rock direction, almost forgoing good taste altogether? Well, my loyal Tom Writes About Stuff constituency, I liked both of those albums. And I don’t like this one at all. Proceed with caution.

I’m already annoyed with the two-part opener “Age of Anxiety”. Between the awfully suspicious new age spiritual energy and cheesy melodrama, the weird huffing and panting in the first track and the tastelessly stark disco of the second track, I’m getting the worst of the nauseating late ’80s/early ’90s radio balladry from a once-groundbreaking rock band. “End of the Empire I-IV” is absolutely dull as shit, too. Irredeemable crescendocore adult contemporary pap and plodding piano-driven slow “soulfulness”. Is this like when classic rock artists got really shitty en masse in the ’80s? Is this what just happens to a 20-year-old band whose salad days are so far in the rearview mirror that the concept of gracefully adopting current musical trends is bewildering to them?

The highlight, the only highlight, is “The Lightning Part II”. Vestiges of the old Arcade Fire come out in full force here in ways I haven’t heard in over a decade. It’s the only enjoyable section of the album, but you have to get through Part I first and endure its embarrassingly sappy repeated desperate pleas of “We can make it if you don’t quit on me” scraping across your brain.

Where’s the passion? Where’s the excitement? It’s all so soulless and neutered. Rife with cringe topical references that will age like milk, like “New phone who dis” and “We unsubscribe/Fuck season 5“. This established indie pioneer should know better. I’m mad at them for this.

Early Verdict:

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Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17 – “Taking Advantage”

* Part 4 of 8 of the Double Trouble storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17 – “Taking Advantage”! In the previous installment, Doc Ock trashes the office of some rich lump of shit named Mr. Hammer. Spider-Man investigates the scene and, while eavesdropping on a conversation between Hammer and a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, learns about the whole situation with Osborn Labs and what became of Dr. Octavius.

Also, a Crocodile Hunter wannabe travels to America for a publicity stunt. That stunt is hunting and killing Spider-Man. That sounds like a dumb waste of time, though. A needless distraction from Octopus Crimes!

Onward.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17 [March, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Taking Advantage”

Peter Parker watches the news report while eating breakfast in his living room. Kraven the Hunter is gonna come squish Spider-Man’s little bug head! Aunt May comes down and Parker whines and cries at her: “Did you see what the guy on TV said? Guy said he was going to kill Spider-Man right on TV.” But Aunt May couldn’t give a fuck less about croc hunters and spider men. She’s old and needs her medicine. And her husband’s dead! He’s dead, Peter. Remember? Show some empathy.

Aunt May just asks him if he’ll be headed to the Daily Bugle after school. She tells him not to buy any street pretzels because “they upset your tummy”, and she kisses him on the cheek and leaves. Parker stands there grumbling to himself about grown-ass TV dudes coming to kill him. I’m laughing hard. I hope it happens.

At his agent’s office, Kraven the Hunter is doing shirtless oiled-muscle yoga stretches in front of a few suited execs. They’re presenting some art that shows Kraven about to spear the little spider boy. “I’m still not one hundred percent into this,” Kraven says, but his manager will hear none of it! Pish posh, sir, the word is already out! You’re gonna do it! You’re gonna murder someone on television! This ain’t camp, son! Hollywood ain’t your parents!

YOWCH! That Eddie Munster widow’s peak is FABULOUS!

Kraven is skeptical…and sweaty. But he has no choice, he’s gotta get another two years put in on this show and dem’s, as they say, da breaks. After that, they can go to syndication. “Seinfeld money”, says this Justin Timberlake-haired freckled child-in-charge. This is the shit that’ll guarantee staying on the air! Murder a teenager! Hup two.

Kraven towers over this pipsqueak agent and calmly reminds him that he was advised to “temper the act for American audiences”. And pipsqueak Timberlake goes “uh buh huhbbuh we’ll, I was right then, and I’m right now! Heh heh! Hup two.”

There are more panels of Kraven’s agent stuttering through some assurances that this is a good idea. He points back at the art, points to Spider-Man cowering in fear, “I actually think this is going to be one the biggest challenges of your career.” And Kraven takes a glance at the art, and there’s a bit of a glint in his eye.

At school, Parker’s social studies teacher is jerking off Nixon again, but she’s interrupted by the principal escorting Gwen Stacy back into class. “Her father, Police Captain Stacy, has guaranteed there will be no more incidents like the one last week.”

But first, Gwen would like to make a speech! Ahem! *clears throat*

“UHHHHH SORRY I PULLED A KNIFE OUT AT SCHOOL. I HATE BULLIES. I WASN’T REALLY GONNA GET STABBY WITH IT.”

Well said. There’s an assembly in a few minutes, class, so let’s keep those Nixon-related questions coming! And I-

“Actually, I have something else to say,” Gwen interrupts, “I think we need some more apologizing.” Yeah! I’ll say! More apologizing from you, Gwen, for continuing to interrupt our little Richard Nixon love-in! But no, she motions to Kong and asks him to apologize for kicking Peter Parker right in his tender buttocks.

Mrs. Harris has had quite enough, tells Gwen to zip the lip, and tries to continue. Gwen and Kong call each other a skank and a birth defect, and I’ll let YOU readers use your imaginations to decide who said what! Mrs. Harris is gettin’ upset! She shuts them up by yelling her hippie head off, then regains composure and asks the class if anyone has any questions about the assigned super hero oral report.

Preach, sister! Testify! Speak the truth! Amen!

Liz has a question, ma’am! Something to the effect of “why in the name of Hugh Jackman’s dirty Wolverine claws do we have to dress up like stinky mutants and prance around in front of the class?” She argues that this is supposed to be social studies class, and it’s irresponsible to make them all do an assignment about mutants after a couple of them trashed the school a few weeks ago! And after Mrs. Harris tries to argue her point, the wind is taken out of her sails once Liz tells her that her mom wants to bring this up at the next P.T.A. meeting. For the second time, MJ’s face lights up like a candle at all the drama going on. When Mrs. Harris asks the class if anyone else shares Liz’s views, Gwen Stacey smiles brightly and raises her own hand. ASSEMBLY TIME! BYE!

Next, Justin Hammer’s limousine in New York City! Ha! “Justin”. This old man is named Justin. Old people aren’t named Justin, Four Loko addicts who tweet about Gamergate are named Justin.

He’s speaking with the main research scientist at his company via satellite, Dr. John Skrtic. Hammer needs major firepower and he needs it now! Skrtic is trying to tell him that the “experiments here are still in awkward stages”, which roughly translates to “cork it, Justin”. Skrtic’s got NOTHING for you right now. “What about that electric boy?” Hammer asks in his Foghorn Leghorn drawl, and Skrtic reminds him that Fisk’s got him now. You sold him in exchange for construction contracts for “the dome”, whatever that is! Also, he’s in prison! “Well, what about the Sandman project? That’s costing a small fortune,” gripes the lovely Hammer Man, and Skrtic cuts the feed to another camera in the basement of the research facility. Here’s what Hammer sees:

Steve Bannon has seen better days. But not much better.

Hammer’s got the willies! Flint Marco. The Sandman Project, sir. “He has the ability to control his mass and density, but – but the transition was too great a shock on him.” That’s not what I see! I see some freak that looks like he’s splashing around in the basement bathroom. Hammer waves a hand and goes something like “well, uh, money well spent I guess. What else you got?”

Skrtic, at this point, advises him to just use S.H.I.E.L.D.’s help on this one. PLUS! And here’s the big fuckin’ PLUS! PLUS!!!…Ock escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place! Sooooooo…let them clean up this pukey mess. And Hammer is all “NO! IMBECILE! Ugh! IDIOT!! Don’t you know that I’m COMMITTING CRIMES EVERY DAY! S.H.I.E.L.D. are the last people I want to involve! Go back to that Sandman guy for a second, he didn’t look so bad, maybe I’ll use him! RRRRGGHH. Nevermind! Let me handle the white collar crime shit, dingus.” He turns off his limo and asks his secretary for a copy of Dr. Skrtic’s contracts.

OK, now we learn what “the dome” is. The Big Apple Energy Dome, a project intended to provide New York City with “an abundance of affordable and alternative energy sources”. Nifty! Did they model the dome after Fat Wilson Fisk’s big bald melon?

The mayor announces the unveiling the Big Apple Energy Dome and introduces Justin Hammer to speak to the crowd about exciting subjects like “saving energy” and “thriving cities” and “brownouts”, even though I’m fairly sure this dumb dome is going to be a front for yet another super-illegal research initiative like “BREEDING 40-FOOT TALL SELF-FELLATING ALIENS” or something equally sexy.

The woman that brought us Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz?! All right, crank the volume!

Hammer yammers about unveiling a “groundbreaking mixture of energy technologies” in the form of mixing solar, electric, and nuclear energies. Like, throw them all in a bucket and shake ‘em up and splash it all over town. Safer solutions! Less expensive! Just go to his website at geocities.com/SiliconValley/4649 to keep up with the construction details!

Uh oh, don’t look now MC Hammer, but a member of the press is ready to throw down some hard-hitting questions! Eddie Brock at the Daily Globe wants to know Hammer’s comments about a rumor that Hammer Industries is working on a similar product that caused a big ol’ kablammo explosion down at Osborn Labs. Hammer smirks, tells Brock that he has no idea what the cunting fuck he’s talking about, we’re here today to talk about the DOME, so ask dome questions from now on.

And Eddie Brock is like “haha, ok” and then asks for Hammer’s comments about CNN’s allegations that his company is funding the development and training of super-powered- HOLD ON RIGHT THERE, SON! This is Hammer Time! And Hammer doesn’t want you to say one more goddamned word about this, Eddie McBrockelstein.

Hammer is sweatin’ now, but at least Ben Urich from Daily Bugle will lob him some easy questions! “Mr. Hammer, what is the nature of your relationship with Doctor Otto Octavius?” GUHHH! UHHMMM, WHO IS THAT, HEH HEH? NEXT!

But at that moment, on the giant screen behind Hammer that shows an inside look of the Big Apple Dome Project facility, Otto the Octopus is wreaking some hella havok with his slimy metal arms! He smiles fiendishly at the camera. Hammer is alarmed!

Anyway, who cares about that shit? We need to know what that school assembly is all about! Kraven the Hunter is coming to shoot a segment of his Spider-Man Murder show at the school tomorrow!

Kraven hates the smell of teenagers, so kindly…kindly find some other school to go to for a few days.

Flash Thompson throws up some Ronnie James Dio devil horns like a nerd idiot. As the principal explains the release forms for appearing on TV, a teacher runs onto the stage to let him know that Otto the Big Mean Calamari is being a jerk in public, and all the students need to stay in the auditorium and remain calm. And sure enough, Peter Parker has that look of determination in his wet, beady teenager eyes. MJ tells him to go, and go he does.

A couple of police copters are hovering near the Dome, requesting backup and discussing how they’re going to land themselves on or near a nuclear facility right next to the sea. One copter notices Spider-Man hitched a ride on the other copter…

…and yes, this dumb punk is grappled to the skid, swinging around a few hundred feet in the air, crying for his mommy. Justin Hammer’s bodyguards try to hurry him out of the facility. Some copter guys start opening fire on the spider kid, which is absolutely fucking bonkers with such a large crowd directly below them. Holy Jesus Shit, man.

Spider-Man lets go of his web-rope and crashes right through the glass of the Dome. He lands at Doctor Octopus’ feet. Doc Ock already killed, like, two scientists. This nerd has no chance.

Final Thoughts

How’s Spider-Man gonna get out of this one? “YOU CAN’T KILL ME, SHITHEAD. KRAVEN THE HUNTER ALREADY HAS DIBS.”

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East of West, Issue #14 – “Warbound”

* Part 14 of 15 of the The Apocalypse: Year One storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #14 – “Warbound”! In the previous installment, Death and the bounty hunter get into a big fight after the bounty hunter killed Cheveyo right before he was going to give Death his son’s location. The fight lasts a while. They’re pretty evenly matched. The hunter doesn’t even know who Death is! It’s strange.

Once Death reveals that he just wants to find his son, Hunter offers to help. They view a fleet of Endless Nation warships flying over the desert on their way to war.

Some weird shit happened with Cheveyo’s body and now Wolf, his son, is bound by a sort of death contract. This was necessary to keep the alive and dead worlds from bridging.

ARE YOU CONFUSED? Start at Issue #1 again then. I’M not confused! I’m gonna press on.

East of West, Issue #14 [July, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Warbound”

Savannah, Georgia. Presumably, the capital city of whatever country the Black Towers is in.

“President Burkhart was indeed…a formidable man.”

A very public funeral is underway. Burkhart’s open casket is adorned with a Confederate flag. Children gape at the dead man, commenting upon how peaceful and sleepy the dude looks. Not at all like how he looked when he died, blood pouring out of every face orifice.

“Did you know Grandpa?” asks a rather sad-looking weasel-faced child. Archibald sits, cane in hand, like a grumpy old so-and-so, preparing to regale the children with heroic tales of their dumbass grandfather. He’s got some war stories at the ready! Buckle up, kids, this is going to fuck your shit up.

“As I said…it was war. The final days of the last great stalemate. This was long ago, before the Nation sold other nations great weapons of mutually assured destruction…”

BOOORRRINNG! Get to the good part!

“It was then some craven Union bastard shot me in the back. As the lines shifted, I was left for dead.”

I’M STILL BORED, OLD MAN! We wish you were the dead one instead!

You didn’t expect Snakey Archibald to snake you over so snakily, did you? That’s why I’m the snake, and you’re the mongoose. Killed by the snake.

While Archibald spins likely false Band of Brothers yarns, occasional panels show WHAT REALLY HAPPENED to Burkhart during the meeting of the heads of state and whatnot. During the distraction of Union representative Peter Graves getting hella disemboweled in front of everyone, Archibald grabs Burkhart’s neck and pierces him with a tiny, poison-laced spike affixed to the ring on his left index finger.

Archibald continues his pretense of unwavering loyalty to the now-deceased. When Archibald was left for dead, Burkhart returned to lift him up and carry him to safety. “I swore from that moment on I would always be at his side, until the very day we put him in the ground.”

Colonel Sanders wraps up his spiel. Three rather dour individuals approach the old man, so he excuses himself from the grandchildren and attends to what can only be some very important Let’s-Pick-a-New-President matters! Oh boy!

“The President is dead,” proclaims a 900-year-old hag, member of the Great Council of the Confederate States of America, unaware that Archibald might already know this little tidbit of information. They seek Archibald’s counsel on the subject. A new president must be appointed. Any thoughts?

Obviously, Archibald can’t wait to get his own hands on some presidential powers! He plays it smooth, though, and recommends some nerd named Senator Howard who sucks. Not bloody likely! The hag has already made up her mind! Archibald, would you like to be the President? You seem like you’re really on the ball.

“So tell us, Archibald…how do you like the sound of President Chamberlain?” asks one of the other councilmen. Heh heh, well, you know…President? Moi? Oh do go on.

“When we are loyal, it is because we find it useful.”

“Of what worth is a mother? Of what value a child?”

We haven’t seen the Horsechildren in a while! The three of them are hanging ‘round the Armistice trying to find pilgrims to slaughter. Famine found a couple of them hiding in the walls of the tower. He/She killed the first one, and then tortured the second one into telling him/her how they got in walls in the first place. And he/she couldn’t believe her/his ears! Famine demanded that he actually show him/her/them/it how it happened. Sorry, I don’t mean to be snarky about pronouns, I just don’t know what to call these gender-swapping Horsekids.

Anyway, I’ll let Famine explain:

Exactly. People are stupid. No arguments from me.

Well, almost everyone has died or disappeared. There’s one that hasn’t. Famine throws some skinned pilgrim remains to a creature waiting in the darkness. It nabs the flesh hungrily.

Conquest sits on a cot-like bed looking sad. Next to the bed is a small nightstand teeming with vialed bottles. “Elixirs. Drugs. Every concoction you could think of… Anything to dull the pain.”

Conflicted ol’ Conquest. As you recall, in a past form, she raised Ezra Orion as a son, and now he’s a large demon-infested lump. “To see him endure this kind of suffering… it’s not the way I’d prefer things to go.”

For example, Conquest loves killing! Ezra doesn’t have to kill, necessarily, but the fulfillment and joy Conquest feels from doing all that fun killing? That’s the kind of fulfillment and joy that she wishes for him. But, clearly, that ain’t happening ever again. War kindly reminds Conquest that they all have jobs to do, so shake a leg. Get your misshapen son out here right now.

It doesn’t do it justice to describe just how supremely fucked-up Ezra Orion looks these days. Just a big, terrifying multi-tentacled, multi-tongued, toothy demon with a sad, bald head sticking out. “Yes, muh-mother…I’ve missed you so much…Hu-How can I help?”

Quiet you. Stop asking questions. Each Horsechild grabs a tongue and starts dragging the wretch across the room.

Ahh, just another day in the life.

Gross. Let’s get away from that unpleasantness immediately! What is the Endless Nation fleet up to?

They’re hovering over the Bad Lands, locking on various Republic of Texas targets: Dallas, Houston, El Paso, Austin, the Alamo. In typical Endless Nation fashion, the ship crews are hooked up Matrix-style to their crazily advanced technology. These targets are all well and good, but Texas done fucked up, so we REALLY want to hit them where it hurts. So what should they do? Kidnap Ted Cruz? Would they care if that happened at all? Would anyone care if Ted Cruz were targeted by the Endless Nation?

“This is not just an assault on our enemies, but on the very ideology that drives them,” explains the very sage Warmaster General. So pick a new target, and don’t be stingy with the ideology-destroyer! Yes sir!

While that’s happening, the Horsey Kids drag Demon Ezra over to a pillar of light. “So, Chosen…” begins War, “we have a theory we’re working on – a flight of fancy, you might say. And it requires the expertise of the world’s foremost expert on the Message.”

So, like, I know every single waking second of your existence is complete unimaginable torture now, yada yada yada, cry me a river. But we need more of your help. Your job’s not done.

“Yu-you need? I… I suffer, Mother. I suffer gr-greatly…and you need?” mumbles this pitiful sad sack.

Again, cry me a river. Your mother is a Horseman of the Apocalypse, remember? It comes with the territory. So help us, or you’re gonna wish you were never born! I mean, maybe you do already! It sure looks like it!

“I want to kill someone,” declares War, all warlike, “I want to kill the boy…the one you call the Beast. I want to kill the son of Death. Can I please do that?”

Ezra Orion is feral with his drooling mug and his bloodshot eyes. “NO!”

Then he says some inscrutable Message nonsense, followed by the proclamation that the seed of the Death + the Lotus are the destroyer-of-worlds dream team. Ergo, the boy must live. Sorry.

“Let me put it to you like this: You and your Message can eat shit.”

The Horsemen are getting pretty tired of that pesky Message. It’s really been getting in the way lately. Famine is starting to think that Death and his influence lie outside of Message-related prophetic gleanings. Conquest is starting to think that Ezra might be a little too compromised by demon-related eternal pain and suffering to think straight about the Message anymore. War is starting to think that all this Message business is a load of hooey and they’re going to kill Death’s son anyway, who cares.

Ezra shoots out a torrent of snot and blood as he cries out that trying to kill the Beast is exactly what will Beastify the Beast in the first place! Whatever happened happened! War snorts and starts leaving, but is suddenly STYMIED by a incapacitating jolt. Positively orgasmic! A feeling he/she hasn’t felt in a long time! “Did you feel it? It’s started…”

“War.”

The Endless Nation starts launching their missiles. The Armistice shakes as if experiencing a tremendous earthquake. It’s gettin’ good, baby! We don’t want to miss this!

The Horseys start leaving. Conquest asks Ezra to come with them, but the malformed bastard doesn’t want to. Isn’t he supposed to stay here at the Armistice where he belongs? “I have become what the Message demands. Aren’t you proud of me?” he blubbers.

“I’m sorry I asked so much of you. You deserved better,” Conquest tells him with the kind of motherly sadness that is certainly unbefitting of a little blue boy child.

Ezra sobs like an 80-year-old mama’s boy; asks himself if this was all for nothing.

“Rrrraarrr… Of coursssse it wassssn’t.”

That was the reassuring voice of Ezra’s personal Hell Demon! Next thing ANYBODY knows, the demon chomps off the part of Orion’s body that’s connected, rips him out of there, and flings him across the floor.

The days of wine and roses?

Ezra Orion confirms that these days are the end times, yada yada yada. EVERYONE knows that already. He sees the floor covered in pages ripped from a tome and starts shrieking. Positively hollerin’ about the precious Message! I mean, he does have all that nonsense committed to memory, but the written Word! It’s too much to handle this blatant defilement of the sacrosanct pages! No no no no no no no! Waaahhhh!

Meanwhile, shit starts exploding at the Armistice. Not a good place to be right now.

“The Word itself… I am an agent of the end times. I will become what the Message demands.”

This tweaking little sap, he starts eating the pages. Just stuffing his stupid mouth with paper.

“And the Word was made flesh, consumed by the one left behind. Cast out and cut off, his righteous hand forfeit, by his left he would lead them.” (This is some Message stuff right here!)

“The temple brought low, and the chains of the Message cast off. So were signs of the coming of the Prophet.” (Top notch Message-y goodness)

While Ezra Orion eats paper, the demon grabs him by its many tongues and starts dragging him into its mouth.

Elsewhere, newest buddies Death and Hunter approach a vast forest. Somewhere in there, and it’s huge, man, is his weird autistic son. Death asks Hunter if he can hang out for a little bit longer, but no dice. “I’m headed the other way… I got other names to cross off my list.”

“Fair enough. Just be careful you don’t cross me again,” threatens Death with his Dirty Harry grimace. And Hunter’s like “I might be up for another challenge someday, padre.”

“Good luck findin’ your kid,” Hunter bids Death farewell and bugs off. Per Hunter’s robot dog, he’s about a hundred miles straight ahead. I hope you brought your comfortable cowboy boots!

“I’ll even say a prayer for you, dead man… That hopefully, you get there in time.”

Already, the three Horsemen are there.

Final Thoughts

The reunion I’ve been waiting for! A big Death vs. three little children! If Death couldn’t even kick a Hunter’s ass, what chance does he have against these three? This guy’s pussywhipped too. I could probably kick Death’s ass.

Hey, we have one more issue left before the first arc is complete! What a ride it’s been! Now go away.

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Sucky Funnies for May 15, 2022

Is it Sunday already?? Well Goddamn! No time for extended preamble today; here’s a fresh, stinky batch of Sunday Funnies for you, my lovely and possibly sexually-attractive reader!

Garfield

Click for Larger

The antics, hijinks, and goofabouts never stop with the Garfield clan. While the Jon Arbuckle is away, the pets come out to play, as the idiom goes. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I’m told, and what better display of flattery than America’s Favorite Yellow Dog and/or Orange Cat engaging in jovial, light-hearted mockeries! Oh what fun!

What do the drooling masses have to contribute today in the comments section??

Comicfan (C): “Last panel killed me. That was hilarious! LOL”
codycab: “Next I follow them while playing the Tuba. (Watch enough Family Guy and you’ll get it)”
Clarence: “Odie looks funny in the last panel”
Imagenesis: “The Garfield strip should be this funny more often!”

We’re all on the same page here! Garfield is super funny today! My Sunday couldn’t get any better than this unless I was dumped ass-first in a vat of delicious hydrofluoric acid!

Jump Start

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I usually think Jump Start is ok; definitely in the 95th percentile of newspaper comics (which is already a pretty low bar to begin with), but once in a while they get wordy with it and they forget to include a punchline. And if the final panel is indeed supposed to be a punchline, which I have painstakingly surmised that it might be, they forgot to maintain contextual continuity by including the words “own two” again. Maybe because Robb “Stark” Armstrong was running out of room and needed to include plenty of space for Marcy’s eyeroll face. I don’t know. I suppose we’ll never know.

I thought today’s Jump Start would’ve brought out the astrology skepticism bunch, but I was wrong again!

allen011: “I kinda fit that description too, and I am not a taurus. I can make anything with my hands, nobody said the stuff I make actually has to work.”
Ellis97: “My fortune said that I will excel in education.”
preacherman: “Well, Charlene, I, too, am practical and can make anything with my two hands, and I’m a Leo.”

Cool stuff everyone, your comments are indispensable! Say hi to the other old-timers at the VFW hall for me.

Marmaduke

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Oh look, another act of domestic terrorism by the most dangerous dog in the universe. After decades of absorbing awful Marmaduke strips, I’m convinced that the joke really is that Marmaduke is huge and out-of-control to the point where even the nonagenarian strip writers, and the characters themselves, agree that Marmaduke should be put down as gruesomely as possible for the good of humanity.

Perhaps I should raise my concerns to the OFFICIAL MARMADUKE EMAIL ADDRESS, doggonefunny42@aol.com! Up and running on a foundation of endless AOL free trail CDs that Marmaduke HQ has received in the mail for the last 29 years! AOL’s only remaining active customer! Besides my own parents, of course.

SHAKEDOWNVILLE: “She failed the ‘park’ing test hitting the tree.”
JudithStocker: “Marmaduke will train this student driver while he behaves like a lot of other drivers on the road. She will learn how to drive defensively this way.”
sarahbowl1: “Marm, stay away from those people. You could have gotten run over!”

No one is talking about how Marmaduke needs to be put to death in a very inhumane fashion? Odd. That should really be the ONLY thing people need to be talking about here.

Click here to ridicule this post!

TomWritesAboutStuff.com Turns 1

THE PARTY NEVER STOPS! JOIN THE FUN!! WOOP WOOP!!

Can you believe it?! Well, maybe you can believe it. This website isn’t YOUR baby. You’re just somebody stopping by on the way to PicturesOfWhiteDucks.com, but for me this is a big deal. I purchased the TomWritesAboutStuff.com domain one year ago today! I bought a cheap WordPress.com account, I migrated the desolate, abandoned wasteland that was my old Blogspot website, I realized quickly that WordPress.com sucked, I bought my own hosting, I tweaked and wrote and wrote and tweaked, and here we are. What you see is the culmination of everything I’ve worked very hard on for 365 days. It’s depressing, but it’s mine, and that’s all that matters.

STUFF I LEARNED ALONG THE WAY!

I don’t have time to write about everything
From an outside perspective, I must be absolutely nuts with the new posts. There are stretches where I post something every day for two straight weeks. And yet, I struggle to find the time to fit everything in. Almost all my meager free time is slotted for writing. I stay up late. I squeeze it in between menial tasks at work. Writing is the only thing I want to do, and I still don’t do as much as I want to. Some day I’m going to have to win the lottery and quit my job! That’s the dream.

Promoting is really boring
God is it boring. I gave up on this a while ago, all the Twitter advertising and finding ways to network and Pinterest and SEO and spray-painting my URL on the street at every intersection in the city! It’s dull. I hate it. And I don’t care about that anymore. I’m not here to make money or become famous, I’m here to write about what I want to write about.

SEO ruined the internet
This is a huge one. One year ago I had no idea what SEO was, and as I gathered more and more information about its necessity for traffic growth, I became increasingly disillusioned on its effect on personal websites. I yearn for the young days of the internet, the late ’90s and early ’00s, when stupid kids like me made a bunch of stupid websites for fun, creativity was king, and there was a great chance that your preferred audience would stumble upon your efforts. NOW, to even have a chance, you need to write like a robot in order to please the Google machine. Fuck that. I don’t care enough.

What does the future look like for TomWritesAboutStuff.com?!?!
I dunno! More of the same! I have an endless supply of ideas, almost all of it is cringingly nerdy, and I’m trying my damnedest to get my motivation back for writing about music. Music is the sole reason I rebooted this project in the first place. It was almost TomWritesAboutMusic.com, so it’s odd that it ended up taking a backseat to the comic books. If there’s one thing I really learned, it’s that this whole endeavor has evolved into me just writing what I feel like. If my interests shift over time, so be it. I’ll adapt.

That’s about it. Thank you for reading! Help me celebrate with Laura Ingraham. Lightbulb hamburgers for everyone!

Do you taste that? That’s the taste of success.

Here’s to another 50 years. I hope I don’t die tomorrow, I got too much more to write about. Cheers, y’all.

2 Replies

Wet Leg – Wet Leg (April 8, 2022)

Cosmic Putrefaction – Crepuscular Dirge for the Blessed Ones (May 6, 2022)

Arcade Fire – WE (May 6, 2022)

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17 [March, 2002] Written by: Brian Michael Bendis “Taking Advantage”

Final Thoughts

East of West, Issue #14 [July, 2014] Written by: Jonathan Hickman “Warbound”

Final Thoughts

Garfield

Jump Start

Marmaduke

Wet Leg – Wet Leg
(April 8, 2022)

Cosmic Putrefaction – Crepuscular Dirge for the Blessed Ones
(May 6, 2022)

Arcade Fire – WE
(May 6, 2022)

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17 [March, 2002]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Taking Advantage”

East of West, Issue #14 [July, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Warbound”