Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Death Note, Vol. 1, Chapter 1 – “Boredom”

* Part 1 of 7 of Vol. 1 – “Boredom” *

Welcome to the inaugural post of my new feature, Manga Cum Loudly. Let’s get one thing straight, right here, right now. I hate anime. I hate manga. I fucking hate it. There’s no hyperbole about this. There’s almost no other medium I hate more with a fiery rage. So, naturally, I decided to jump into it because it’s way more fun to write about what you hate than what you love! If I’ve learned anything from my comic book writing adventure, my engagement in the story is indirectly proportional to the fun I have writing about it. Ergo, this is going to be the most fun I’ve had in decades.

I’m well-versed with Western comics, why not move on to Eastern comics? Gotta keep that mind open, I guess. And since all the manga volumes in the world up to this moment could fill a landfill the size of South America about 4,000 miles high, I’ve got an endless supply of fodder to deal with.

I’m starting with Death Note because it’s supposed to be one of the better ones to introduce a complete nubile newbie to the genre. I really shouldn’t even be bothering, since I graduated 8th grade a long time ago, but here we are. Let’s see where this takes me. I might even end up LIKING manga! Hahahaha!! And please fucking kill me if that ever happens.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Chapter 1
Written by: Tsugumi Ohba
Illustrated by: Takeshi Obata
“Boredom”

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Off to a fucking ominous start with a title called “Boredom”. Write this one down, kids. This doesn’t bode well.

Shinigami World! That’s the “God of Death” World! It’s boring there! Nothing but post-apocalyptic wastelands and weird, lumbering scythe-wielding creatures.

Human World! You know that one already. It’s boring there! A teenager sits at his school desk, staring longingly out the window, lamenting the rotten, bullshit world that it is. I hear ya, buddy.

In the Shinigami World, these gods of death play games with human skulls to pass the time. Just like on Earth! One of them gets bored and walks away to “check it out”, whatever “it” is. Possibly the lump on his saggy, god of death testicles.

Two other Shinigami-types continue rollin’ bones and chewin’ bubblegum while this bitchcake saunters off. He’s not gone long, though. Something terrible has happened!

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

RAWR! It had instructions for how to do a Death on someone!

Shinigami-Face has lost his DEATH NOTE! The end! That was fun.

With no semblance of pacing whatsoever, Shinigami-Face knows immediately that he left in the Human World and he teleports immediately Probably-Tokyo. Flying through the sky above the dense urban landscape, Shinigami-Face proclaims “FROM THE ONE NOTEBOOK LOST IN THE HUMAN WORLD BY THIS SHINIGAMI…THE GRAND BATTLE BETWEEN THE TWO CHOSEN ONES BEGINS.” He looks super dumb with his unblinking eyes and his pointy yellow stank-ass teeth. I could kick this guy’s ass, no kidding.

The bored kid in class is named Yagami Raito. He’s 17 years old, which means he gets frequent embarrassing classroom boners, but now he’s not in the classroom having boners. He’s on public transportation of some sort, like an Elon Musk bullet train, and he spots a strange notebook on the beach as he throws a glazed stare out the window. He gets off the train and makes haste! “It’s all in English. What a pain…” he says, translated to English by some hyperactive 11-year-old kid so that privileged white-toast adult people like me can “enjoy” Death Note manga. Thumbing through the mysterious black notebook, Raito recognizes the words “death” and “note”, so we’ve pretty much cracked the code here.

“Ha ha ha. ‘The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die.’” Raito chuckles to himself. Crazy stuff! I think my seven aunts forwarded this email to me this morning! But, his chuckling days are over, because he spends the wee hours of the night poring over the thin, flimsy notebook. It’s full of very specific death rules, like “After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds” and “After performing a nasty death deed, the death deed doer must hop on one foot until Portugal sinks into the Atlantic Ocean”.

Finally, at about 11:30 the next morning, Raito retires to his bed, amused by the elaborate prank he discovered.

“Heh. So you can make the person die peacefully or make them suffer,” he says, entertaining the idea of torturing his numerous swathes of enemies. He doesn’t sleep. He’s thinking a lot about this.

“Death if you write the name, eh?” he thinks. Now we’re talkin’, baby! Write that name!

Eh. Maybe later.

Cut to five days later. Disgruntled Raito comes home to his beaming mother. “Wow! Ranked 1st in the country on the national scholastic practice exam!” she cries after he hands her a piece of paper. Easy there, mom. The practice exam had questions like “is the sky up?” and “how many apples in a thing?”, so everyone got 100% and was ranked #1. “I’m going to study, so don’t bother me,” Raito says icily as he ascends the staircase. Mother’s gonna be the first to die.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Yes, top-notch pornography. Thanks for noticing.

Raito giggles at this flimsy notebook like it has the best knock knock joke in the world scrawled in it. “Looks like you’re enjoying it,” says a voice behind him.

AND IT’S A BIG, BUG-EYED SHINIGAMI! TWO INCHES FROM RAITO’S FACE! HOLY SHIT! HIS BREATH SMELLS LIKE ONIONS AND BABOON SEMEN! …and a hint of nutmeg? Ooooh, fancy.

The bug-eyed monster introduces himself to Raito, quite politely, as Shinigami Ryuuku. Nice book, huh? It belongs to him, but he seems tickled that Raito has spent a lot of time with it already.

Raito is freaking the fuck out, but just for a second. He regains composure and starts to assert his conversational dominance over this Shinigami asshole. “I’m not surprised, Ryuuku. I’ve been waiting for you, Shinigami,” he smiles a wry smile. The wry smile of a 17-year-old kid with yet another barely-furtive boner in his pants.

“I’ve already accepted the Death Note as real, but…seeing things for myself gives me more confidence in my actions.”

So sit down, dude! Raito’s got a lot of questions for ya. Pull up a chair, get comfy. Want a scone? They’re my mother’s recipe, pity I’m gonna have to kill her for being so nice, I’m afraid!

Raito presents the beast with pages FILLED with names. Names just spilling over, good gravy sir, so many names. Now Ryuuku is the surprised one! “I’ve heard many stories of the Death Note falling to the human word, but you’re the first one to do this much in only 5 days,” the Scaramouche (close enough) tells the child. A normal person would be “freaked out” to go this far, but you, son. You’ve got balls of steel. STAINLESS steel! The kind of steel that doesn’t corrode easily. Uncorrodable balls, my friend.

This sociopath is prepared for what’s next. So what is it? Selling a soul? Hazing rituals? All-you-can-eat breakfast? “Huh?” the bug-eyed dunce responds, “Wild human imagination? I won’t do anything to you,” Ha! That’s a rip-off, right? Damian over here wants to start eating skeleton bones by sundown.

“Once the Death Note lands in the human world, it belongs to that world. It’s yours now,” says Ryuuku with an air of “better you than me” in his assuredly raspy voice. If he doesn’t want it, then toss it to some other mope. This Shinigami doesn’t give two shits! Just let him know if you do, ok, so he can, like, erase your mind. Or whatever.

Conveniently, since Raito was the only human to use the Death Note, he’s now the only human who is able to see and hear Ryuuku. The document now serves as the bond between these two chums! This is great news, because now he can hang around like the Great Gazoo for the next 107 chapters.

“So there’s really no price for using the Death Note?” asks Raito, padding this chapter out with unnecessary unskippable tutorials. This is where I realize Ryuuku is basically fully clad in leather, studs, and buckles like a BDSM Judas Priest fan trying to scare grandma. He tells Raito no, not really, except stress and guilt and other piddling human emotions.

Just to be clear, when YOU die, Raito, Ryuuku’s getting that book back, and YOUR name’s going in that book. ALSO…

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Only… Wyoming!

Obviously, Ryuuku intended a more dramatic effect here. They stare at each other for a bit. Ryuuku’s face kind of falls when he realizes this punk really isn’t scared. In fact, he’s bold enough to ask even more fuckin’ questions. “Why did you choose me?” Raito, ever the inquisitive scamp. Pffft, look kid, you’re nothing special. Ryuukukukuuuku just lost the thing, ok? It ended up where it ended up, and you happened to be at the right place at the right time.

“THEN WHY DID YOU DROP IT?” Raito hollers. And this winged beast simply tells him that he was bored.

*Hint: That’s a reference to the name of the chapter right there! Shhhh, don’t tell.*

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

I mean, look at this! Bob Saget. Louie Anderson. Meat Loaf. Naomi Judd. Gilbert Gottfried. Taylor Hawkins. Ooooh, Billie Eilish. That’s bold, kid.

Ryuuku decides to start spilling about the woes of being a Shinigami in these trying times! All you ever do is sleep or gamble! Once in a while, you write a few human names in a Death Note, but that loses its luster after about 200,000 years or so. No fun, no fun.

So…heh heh…it sounded more fun to hang out on Earth for a bit, you know? Maybe you could show me around? I’ve heard good things about Brazilian steakhouses!

Raito admits that he’s been bored too. That’s why he wrote down all those names. Sounded like fun!

Later, Raito writes what I can only assume is his 14,000th name in the Death Note when he suddenly takes pause. “Hold on…” the brainiest genius who ever lived begins, “if it actually does work, am I a murderer?” Hey now, kid, let’s not start feeling guilty all of a sudden! Maybe he can do some good with this! Now he gets thinking…he turns on the news, which shows some 42-year-old dipshit named Otoharada Kurou holding seven kids hostage in a pre-school. His name is conveniently displayed on the TV, ripe for rewriting in a Death-like Note…

Per the rules, this dick is supposed to have a heart attack 40 seconds after his name is penned in the book, but nothing happens! Oh well, time to call it quits on the– WAIT! Raito checks the TV! The hostages are coming out! The buttfucker keeled over and died out of nowhere! Crazy stuff! According to the hostages, he just collapsed! Then the hostages were like “Cool, we’re not hostages anymore.”

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

I’ll show YOU “cram school”, Mother.

Raito is skeptical. Must be a coincidence. Gotta try it again, just to make sure. BUT, his thoughts are interrupted by his cloying mother to tell him that it’s “time for his cram school”, which sounds aggressively sexual. Time’s a-ticking, and Raito is compelled to write some random name down, but thinks better of his wild impulses and settles on finding another criminal to slaughter instead. But, ugh, what if they’re too famous? Then the news won’t report it for a while! (?)

At Cram School, Raito contemplates killing one of his annoying classmates. What’s the harm in that? He’d be doing the student body a huge favor! All this daydreaming during class is making Professor Angry Teacher pretty livid, so he throws a piece of chalk at Raito’s head and tells him to get his ass back to Earth. It doesn’t happen.

Walking home from school, Raito listens to everyone’s inane chatter on the streets as he makes his way through downtown. “I start to think the world would be better off without all of them,” he says to himself, and FINALLY, something I can really relate to! At long last, an easy answer to his WHO-SHOULD-I-ANNIHILATE problem presents itself in the form of a greasy leather-clad piece of shit on a motorcycle who rides up next to a woman and starts harassing her. He introduces himself by giving away his full name loud enough for Raito to hear! He even repeats it! So fuck this guy, he’s going down. Raito writes his name in the Deathiest of Notes.

Raito bides his 40 seconds of time while the situation escalates. The woman starts trying to run away, the biker shithead starts chasing her down on his “hog” as the kids say. Once time is up, Raito observes with bated breath. “WHAT WILL HAPPEN?” he cries out to himself with giant stupid manga eyes.

Here’s what happens: this guy gets creamed in the intersection by a semi-truck.

Raito is like “HUBABAHU!! HABUU!NA! HAUB!UHABAH!B!”.

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Kekekekekekeke ^______^

This little murderer flees the sccene of the crime. He looks like Charlie Brown, just all wide-eyed and anxious. “I’ve killed two people…” he ruminates while meandering through the streets. “What should I do…?”

That first guy, Mr. Hostage Situation, surely he deserved to die, right? I mean, the bowl cut freak was asking for it! OK, that’s a load off my mind. But Mr. Motorcycle Dickhead, he didn’t deserve to die, right? Well, did he have children in his basement? Possibly! Let’s go with that.

Maybe Raito should get rid of this notebook. He’s already losing it. He’s got a taste for blood now, and it’s orgasmically delicious! Plus, now he’s like a superhero of sorts: ridding the world of evil can be his life’s calling! OK, now we’re talking. Let’s keep playing God and fuck the consequences! What’s for dinner?

Death Note, Vol. 1, Ch. 1

Yeah, you do that, Sparky.

Later in his bedroom, Raito pals around with his newest buddy Ryuuku. Swappin’ stories, talkin’ ‘bout boys, that kind of thing. Even though the kid has lost about 10 pounds in the last week from stress and anxiety, he maintains his stance on his self-appointed Person Killer Extraordinaire for the Greater Good or Whatever.

Ryuuku is like “Why aren’t you writing the cause of death, you corner-cutting little twerp?”, and Raito is like “Because then it’s always a heart attack, dumbass. It’s like a dang calling card!”

And then here’s the part where the universal manga/anime trope begins: Raito wants to become the most powerful force on Earth. “I’m going to make the world aware of my existence. That there is someone passing down judgment!!” Ugh, to what end? Do you think that’s going to impress the girls? Do you think that’ll buy you a handjob in the alley behind Taco Bell?

Even Ryuuku looks really stunned, and he always looks sort of stunned. Raito continues: “And I will build a world of only kind-hearted people I accept,” He smiles like the Zoloft kicked in. “Then you’ll be the only bastard left…” Ryuuku solemnly whispers, maybe. I like to imagine he can whisper through that frozen pointy-toothed mug of his.

Raito is beaming. He’s like a kid in a candy store (if by “candy store” I actually mean “murderous rampage”). “I will be THE GOD OF THIS NEW WORLD!” he declares with fire in his eyes. Now Ryuuku is fucking lit, man. “I knew it! Humans are…so much fun!” he cries with over-exaggerated fiery anime glee. Only 107 more chapters left! Seems like the story’s fucking done to me. Kid becomes God, yawn. Go home.

Meanwhile, “in another country” as it were, an emergency interpol meeting is being held to address the sudden surge of dead criminals. 52 just this week alone. All from heart attacks. It’s like, what the fuck?

Raito smiles. It’s starting to get more interesting.

Final Thoughts

17-year-old me wouldn’t want to be caught dead reading this, but here we have it: the very first manga chapter I have ever read in my life.

And let me tell you, if I wasn’t inclined to write about it, I wouldn’t even bother at all!

Thanks for reading. Sorry to subject you to this!


Click here to ridicule this post!
Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4 – “The Main Event”

* Part 4 of 7 of the Faces of Death storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4 – “The Main Event”! In the previous installment, Jim Gordon is held captive at the abandoned Gotham Mercy Hospital by the Dollmaker, who uses Gordon to trick Batman into falling right into a trap! Now Batman has to fight five dirtbags wearing sewed-on Joker faces in some sort of enclosure while people watch.

It’s unclear to me how the whole Gordon-killed-Wesley-Mathis, Joker-killed-Dollmaker’s-son, Gordon-killed-Dollmaker’s-father thing connects together smoothly yet, so hopefully that piece of business didn’t get all twisted up into an accidental logical paradox while this story was getting drafted up. I’m looking at you, Tony S. Daniel. Thin ice, buddy.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4 [February, 2012]
Written by: Tony S. Daniel
“The Main Event”

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

“Who pulls the strings of Gotham?” the cover asks mockingly while Marionette Batman snarls. If there’s one thing I know, Batman ain’t nobody’s puppet. EITHER HE RUNS THE CITY, OR NOBODY DOES! Not you. Not the mayor. No one.

Flashback to before Batman got caught up the little sociopathic girl who turned on the Bat-Signal. Deep in Crime Alley, 72 minutes prior to getting gangbanged by Joker clones (the dream!), Batman is shaking down a man named Raju, putting his head in the toilet, giving him swirlies, and demanding answers. He doesn’t like Raju very much, but since he works as a trusted messenger between crime families, Raju’s his only hope tonight.

So, one more plunge into the toilet and Batman confirms the whereabouts of the Dollmaker’s hideout, I guess. Raju mentions something about an auction, and it’s the only thing he knows, and I don’t think that really says anything! Maybe it’s a police auction. Maybe Dollmaker’s at the police station…where you’d least suspect…

On the roof of the police headquarters, Home of the Signal, discussions are rumbling about the dead cop that Olivia killed in the street last night. “I spoke to a couple of witnesses who can tie the bat to the scene of Officer MacAlloy’s murder,” says Detective Forbes of the Internal Affairs department, aka Cop Snitch. Det. Harvey Bullock knows Batman, that guy ain’t no Cop Killer like Ice-T. Forbes provides some useful information about Officer MacAlloy, such as “Gordon didn’t like him” and “Gordon killed him by summoning Batman to kill him” and “I saw it happen”.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

Yuck, I can’t eat this.

Harvey’s got a mystery on his hands, that’s for sure! A guy like Harvey Bullock sure looks like he likes mysteries. As long as they’re deep-fried and coated in ketchup. While investigating the Bat-Signal itself, Harvey notices Batman’s message: unfolded, right-side-up, easily readable, near the center of the signal glass. You know, just like real life. Is Batman so careless that he wouldn’t pocket the message, or rip it up, or eat it, or poop on it, or anything? OR, perhaps, did he do that on purpose because he knew he was going to be led to the Clown Trap?

In any case, Harvey Bullock’s got a lead. Whew, that was hard work. All them stairs. Time to sit on the couch and eat Bugles.

Ahhh, now the good stuff. Mercy Hospital, circa right this moment. The four fake Jokers are cackling while Batman gets whipped around by steel cable puppet strings pulling him in every direction. It’s all very elaborate and dumb, but how dumb can it really get? That I’m excited to see.

Ah, the Jokers are on puppet strings too! It’s an even playing field. He kicks one in the face! BAFF! He knocks another’s knife out of his hand! HUFF! The crowd watches this display of…whatever this is. It’s stupid.

Elsewhere in some unknown room, Gordon sleeps shirtless in his cell, exposing his overly-hairy torso and his man nipples. Olivia approaches his cage and tells him he looks like shit. Gordon can hear the clown/bat fight racket, and he asks her if she knows that that sound is?

In true villain form, Olivia dresses up for some reason. “I have a confession to make. Dollmaker put me up to it. Figuring out a way to bring Batman here.”

Gordon’s all drugged and wonky-lookin’, eyes pointed in slightly different directions. “Saving you from this beast is all I give a damn about right now…” Hey, Gordo, weren’t you listening? Olivia and this beast are in cahoots! Cahoots, I say! Olivia brings out her shiny cop-killing knife. “I’m sorry, Commissioner,” she says, raising the knife, pointy side down, glistening in the moonlight, covered in the blood of *checks notes* 450,000 souls that came before it at its hand. Wow!

While watching the clown fight, Nurse informs Dollmaker that the Messenger has arrived. Dollmaker wants the Messenger to shove off.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

The Messenger has been banned from all my personal MMA fights. He knows this. The guy talks too much, has too many messages to relay to everyone.

The Messenger has a new buyer willing to pay double the highest asking price…as long as Batman’s alive, of course. Now we’re talking! Money money money money money! Dollmaker instructs his one-eyed cymbal-clapping chimp, Sampson, to “subdue the Batman”. Sampson hits a couple of buttons on his remote control, and Batman is hoisted and held by cables many feet above the stadium. All four Jokermen look quite dead. Ah well.

Dollmaker is shrewd, and he’s not going to get ahead of himself with fevered excitement and clouded judgment over this offer. Too good to be true, as they say. When he asks the Messenger just who this buyer is, the only thing he’s told is “Let’s just say he Waddles to the beat of a different drummer.” Ah! Penguin! It’s Penguin! Danny Devito! Burgess Meredith! The Penguin is rich and stupid and hates Batman, no wonder he wants to buy him at an extravagant price. Who knows what fiendishly sexy things he’d like to do to him behind closed doors. Open ones too, for that matter!

The Messenger is revealed to be toilet-face Raju. Yeah, no shit, since Batman made a point to call him a trusted messenger. Dollmaker agrees to the terms of Raju’s client’s choosing, but he needs the body back in 24 hours…also, make sure he’s not dead longer than an hour before his return. For, uh, pickling reasons.

Batman, meanwhile, struggles in his constraints. He’s surprised to learn that the cables are his own magnetically controlled design! Buh! Whuh?!

“I will do your corpse justice, Batman,” sneers the Dollmaker with a sexual glint in his milky eyeball.

Dollmaker doesn’t have more time for elaborate fantasizing, because Batman hits the demagnetizer on his trusty Swiss Army Belt and frees himself. All of Raju’s henchmen are recognizable as Penguin’s bunch, and Raju has some nerve to show up here in the first place after what had happened earlier. Head in the fucking toilet, Raju! You’re gonna get yours again! He punches Raju in the face. The Dollmaker slips away, and Batman continues his fight with the gaggle of cronies and ne’er-do-wells. Ne’er-e’er-do-wells, you might say!

In another room, an unknown individual calls the Nurse and tells her, coldly, that he never approved of this stupid little wrestling match that she and the Dollmaker cooked up. “You’ve taken your eyes off what is necessary.” So kill the fucking Police Commissioner and get rid of the body post-haste, the police have been tipped off and are on their way to the hospital as we speak!

While Batman still fights, he decides that Gordon, if he’s here at all, must be held captive on the third floor in one of the operating rooms per the blueprints. Whatever. How the fuck would he know that? Gordon could be in a women’s bathroom stall of the hockey arena on the other side of town for all Batman knows. Gordon could be at the bottom of the Nile River in South Sudan.

Sampson the Cymbal Chimp and Bentley the…large skullface… are clearing out the freezer of organs and other body parts. Dollmaker said bring as much as you can. But hurry! They don’t taste as good when they thaw, you know!

These rubes don’t have enough time to collect all the organs. Batman busts through a wall with an onomatopoeic “KARASH”. Sounds like a vegetable.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

But sir, your bedrest!

Some other patched-up pincushion enters Gordon’s quarters, where the Good Commish is lying comfortably in the hospital bed. “Ah, there you are. Still alive. Clinging to what’s left of your life.” says the patched-up pincushion to the very healthy-looking mustached man mere feet from him. Gordon bolts upright and trains his gun on the assailant. “STEP BACK, MOTHERCUNTER!!”.

But it’s not this that causes Pincushion to actually stop. He slumps forward, revealing a knife in his back and Olivia Carr behind him. “You didn’t have a chance. The gimp would’ve slit your throat,” she says with all the emotional energy of a piece of bread. Gordon still doesn’t see this for what it is. “Stop. You’re leaving with me,” he tells her. I think we can all guess how that plan will pan out.

He now has his gun aimed at Olivia, but she’s not afraid. It ain’t got no bullets. “I’m not afraid of anything. Not Dollmaker. Not Batman. Not you. Not dy–” Gordon grabs the kid and hugs her while she cries, “…not dying…”

Batman was able to hear the Commissioner’s howlin’ voice down the hall and starts a-runnin’. He hears Olivia too. And a two-way radio. And a bug eating lunch. And a small town in Cambodia. Out a window, Dollmaker’s car peels out and away before the coppers show up. Gordon and Olivia appear at the doorway; he tells Batman to get the hell out of here and follow the car.

“The last time I met a police chopper, it was firing bullets at me. Tonight, it’s a sight for sore eyes,” he says as he swings around town again. Don’t breathe sighs of relief just yet, Batty Boy, they’re coming for you next! Rocket launchers this time!

In literally no time, like two panels, Batman catches up with the car and lands on the roof with another sickening “KARASH”! More vegetables! The car is fucking totalled, son.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

Thanks a lot, jerk. That’s gonna be another expensive paint job.

We are treated to a full-page spread of the car EXPLODING! From what, I don’t know. Batman’s rocket-fuel boots caused a spark in the gas tank? Cars don’t just blow up like that. This was an inside job.

“The car’s roof shielded me from the blast. Lucky,” thinks Batman, since the editor of <a href=”/loneliness-and-cheeseburgers/detective-comics-vol-2-issue-004″>Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4</a> (don’t click that link, you’re already reading it) was like “this is really asinine, Tony S. Daniel. Does the ‘S’ stand for ‘Sucks’? I guess I’ll have to explain to the readers why Batman didn’t die. Again.”

A bunch of bodies fly out from the fiery wreckage, but they’re just plastic doll parts. The police helicopter, Batman assumes, secretly smuggled the Dollmaker and it flies away from the scene. Curious.

Welp, that’s the end of that for now! We cut to Colorado at a later time, where Bruce Wayne is cozying it up in some scenic cabin with whatsherface. Reporter lady. Cloris Leachman? No. Charlotte Rivers. They gaze upon the beautiful mountain scenery while Charlotte talks about how this place melts away all the work stress. “The Dollmaker story took a lot out of you, sounds like,” says Bruce, peppering in proof of his bare-minimum active listening.

Detective Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #4

You’re gonna get the back of my hand, lady, I swear to God.

“I found myself really worrying for Commissioner Gordon’s safety. And that young girl…Olivia. I- I don’t like stories like that. You always expect the worst outcome. At least now, with Gordon recovering in the hospital, I might be able to nail down an exclusive. Maybe I can even-”

Bruce tells her to zip the fucking lip.

The issue ends at the Gotham police headquarters, where the mayor and Harvey Bullock discuss Dr. Arkham’s decision to sic his lawyers on the department and arrange for Olivia to be taken out of juvenile detention and into his asylum. “I mean, sure, the kid’s probably messed up a little. But that place would only make her worse.” Mr. Two-Cents Bullock over here.

Mayor Hady doesn’t see the harm in it. After all, Gotham doesn’t have the dough or resources to cough up lawyers of their own to fight this case anyway. Dr. Arkham just wants to perform a two-week evaluation and that’s that. Bing Bang Boom. Enough time for a psychiatric evaluation, then maybe cuff the kid then if she turns out to be a genuine little cop killing sociopath! Let’s get a bite to eat.

On another note, there’s a slew of whack-jobs setting up shrines and wreaths and candles outside the police headquarters. Joker’s followers. What’s up with that, Bullock, you slovenly man you? And Bullock’s like “they’re poppin’ up faster than we can tear ‘em down, sir. Makin’ me all winded.”

This is all because they’re keeping Joker’s gross face in the headquarters as evidence. Evidence of what? Evidence that Joker no longer has a face? Commissioner Gordon was supposed to move the thing, but he got abducted and they stole an organ and wah wah waaah.

“…I’d like nothing better than to get rid of that thing,” Bullock mumbles, staring at Joker’s cryogenically frozen face.

He gets just a liiiitle bit hard, I think.

Final Thoughts

JUST LOOK FOR THE GUY WITHOUT A FACE. How tough could it be, goddamnit?

Look. For. The. Guy. Without. A. Face.


Click here to ridicule this post!

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)

Wet Leg - Wet Leg

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)

Cosmic Putrefaction - Crepuscular Dirge for the Blessed Ones

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)

Arcade Fire - WE

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:


Click here to ridicule this post!
Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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”

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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!

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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:

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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.

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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!

Ultimate Spider-Man (Vol. 1), Issue #17

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.”


Click here to ridicule this post!
East of West, Issue #14

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”

East of West, Issue #14

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!

East of West, Issue #14

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:

East of West, Issue #14

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.

East of West, Issue #14

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.

East of West, Issue #14

“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.

East of West, Issue #14

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.


Click here to ridicule this post!