Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6 – “The End of the Beginning”

* Part 6 of 7 of the Last Daughter of Krypton storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6 – “The End of the Beginning”! And this, my friends, is the beginning of the end, as it were. The almost-final issue of the first Supergirl story arc. In the previous installment, Supergirl finds her way back to Argo City, which is now a tiny asteroid orbiting a blue sun. There, she pops in her red crystal sunstone and watches her dad’s message about the fate of Krypton, the attempt to save Argo City, the attempt to save Kara, and a surprise view of his death before the end of the message! Fun!

A Worldkiller named Reign followed Supergirl to Argo City, thinking that she would be a kindred spirit that could work with her to find the answers about Krypton that they both seek. Unfortunately, Supergirl went nutso again and tried kicking Reign’s ass, so Reign is like “fuck you, I’ll seek the answers myself” and warned her that Argo is going to spiral off into the blue sun soon, so you better leave before you get yourself dead an’ shit.

And that’s where we are now. Once again, Supergirl has no idea what to do next. Let’s see how that works out for her. Just swell, I reckon.

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6 [April, 2012]
Written by: Michael Green & Mike Johnson
“The End of the Beginning”

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

Reign told Supergirl to follow her, but Reign also left her unconscious and hanging on the wall. Is this the end for Supergirl?

Wait, who cares! We won’t even get to that yet. We have to see something entirely different altogether first, a flashback sequence of Kara’s bullshit training. “You’re late. I’m beginning to think you don’t take your physical training seriously,” rebukes a spindly floating robot. Here’s my translation: “Straighten up and fly right or your family will disown you. Take this shit seriously! These are the Trials. Don’t you know how important the Trials are? Goddamn! The Trials!”

And she starts fighting like Buffy the Vampire slayer while Giles holds boxing strike pads. This version seems wimpier, though. Kara says stuff like “Uff” and “Hrrf”, clearly unable to show this robot who the boss is whatsoever (maybe she does actually; the robot is the boss!). After a few more weak punches, the robot knocks her to the floor.

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

What’s disappointing is her stupid training outfit.

The robot berates the girl further, and if I were Kara I’d unplug this bitch. Her non-dead father walks into the room to inform the robot that Kara is very stubborn, so she’s not going to listen to him! Consider thyself unplugged. Bitch. Kara sits on the floor, put out.

“There’s only one thing you need to know about combat, Kara: Get knocked down? Get back up.” Ah, the wisdom of Chumbawumba transcends galaxies, I see. Her father smiles in that fatherly way that shows that he likes his loser daughter anyway, even if she is a 75-pound weakling. He helps her up and they start walking away, insisting that Kara is a scientist and not a fighter, and, against Kara’s mother’s wishes, she’s done training for the day.

Kara thinks back on all this and wishes her dad didn’t excuse her shitty training progress. After all, now that Krypton exploded and she’s on her own, maybe it would have been, uh, helpful in this current situation, to say the least.

She hangs there on the wall still, limp, feeling like a total failure for being the last daughter of Krypton (that’s the name of the storyline!). And I guess when Reign said that the city was going to fall into the blue star and burn up, I thought she meant, like, months or years from now. Not within the afternoon. Or before the commercial break. So Supergirl struggles to urgently free herself from the grip of the sword, but she has no strength! Blue sun = shitty super powers. Oh well, at least she’ll die in Argo City where she belongs! That’s comforting!

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya! Give me a pint o’ the black stuff! You’ll never get me lucky charms!”

Back on Earth, a young tourist couple asks a passerby to snap a photo of them with the Statue of Liberty in the background. The passerby claims she is from Ireland, that’s probably why she has such a weird accent! Yep, Irish. Not Worldkiller. Nope. That’s closer to Northern Irish, heh heh. Anyway, Reign is disguised as a young woman, hair short and gray, dressed in leathery punk fashion. She then asks the couple to take one of her too.

Twist! The young woman isn’t Reign, but Reign shows up behind her and declares New York City to be the perfect place to start her various conquering-related objectives. The young people look slightly concerned and bothered. “YOU!” Reign points to a shaky, rather helpless cop, “You wear some kind of ceremonial garb! You represent the rulers of this world?” And when the cop poops his stupid cop pants and trembles in the affirmative, Reign lifts him by the neck: “Excellent. Tell them Reign has come. Tell them to assemble their forces. Their finest warriors. Their deadliest weapons. I will meet them in the center of this city…”

“…where they will have the honor of dying first.”

Reign smiles, relishing the thought of killing stupid humans. A real Bending Robot.

Back on Argo again! Supergirl hangs there all pathetic and dying of exposure and/or blue sun burn-up. She gets ghostly visions of her parents talking to her. It’s all very heartwarming. “Your mother and I are here for you, Kara,” claims the vision of her father, obviously brought upon by her stomach eating itself, “We will always be here for you.”

But she’s wise to this ethereal visit! “I’m dreaming,” she tells them, but hush dear. It doesn’t matter. Just let the hallucinations do their work. “Take my hand, child. Together we have the strength. Now pull…”.

And “together” they have the strength. And “together” they pull.

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

Nothing like a good SHNNNK–NNHYAAA! to start your morning.

All right, now what did Kara’s father say? Oh yeah, it was something about getting knocked up if you get knocked down? Close enough! Her mother gets a turn to speak, though, for once: “You must go, NOW. The city is falling into the sun.” Supergirl doesn’t wanna! She wants to stay here with them! Be a normal Kryptonian teenager! Play normal Kryptonian Xbox! Do her normal Kryptonian chores! Watch normal Kryptonian Buccaneers vs. Vikings American football games! But no, fair daughter, the time has come to hoist yourself by your dang bootstraps and get the fuck out of dodge.

“Find a new home, Kara. Do not worry. We will always be with you,” speak her starvation-induced fantasies.

Once again, Supergirl finds herself in outer space. She looks behind her at the floating chunk of rock that used to be her city. This is the part of the story where she admits all the denial that she has been clinging on to since she crash-landed in Siberia. “My old life is over. I knew it already,” she tells herself, and then knows what she needs to do next. “I’m awake now. My home is gone. And I have only one place left to go.”

And that place is Hogwarts. Hey, are there any Harry Potter comics? Did I ask that before? Actually, I don’t care whatsoever, nevermind.

Reign is running through the city like she’s high on bath salts, laughing at all the helicopters, tanks, and gunmen trying to take her down to no avail. “HAHAHA! DON’T STOP! ATTACK ME UNTIL YOUR WEAPONS FAIL! ATTACK ME UNTIL YOUR CITY CRUMBLES!” she yells maniacally! Like a maniac! The bullets go “braap”. The tank missiles go “choom”.

One missile chooms like a mofo, connecting right with Reign’s torso. “That’s better,” she grins, then leaps on the tank to start tearing it apart. She lifts a guy out of the tank and yells at him to fight like a warrior. Reminds me of Issue #1 when Supergirl lifted the soldier up by his scruff out of his mechanical robot suit. Reign was right, these two really are alike. Maybe they’ll hook up in Issue #17, “Reign on Kara’s Wedding Day :]”.

But first, a little bit of playing hard to get! Supergirl HERSELF somehow found her way back to Earth, and THEN found her way to New York City, and THEN found Reign’s location, and THEN punched her into a large stone archway. All without any GPS at all! I can’t even find Walgreens without a GPS and I live, like, really close to the Walgreens.

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #6

Fast fuckin’ friends, these two.

“It’s good to see you again, Kryptonian,” Reign says this like it’s been more than two hours since they saw each other. Certainly, Reign knows that Supergirl isn’t here to help! That’s why Supergirl punched her into a large stone archway! Pretty big hint, I’d think. “I didn’t come back to rule this world, Reign…I’m here to kick you off of it!” Supergirl snarls, and the fight is on!

Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

OK, well, there’s not really much of a fight yet. Reign throws Supergirl down and creates a Supergirl-sized hole in the concrete road. Then Reign talks a lot, mostly about how much the two of them have in common. Do I hear wedding bells? :]

Supergirl insists they have NOTHING in common, but just like the rest of this series so far, she’s been completely wrong every time there has been a situation in which to be wrong. Every time! “We both seek answers to our origins. Like you, I awoke with my memory fractured…the full truth of what happened to us remains hidden in the wake of Krypton’s destruction. And yet we both sense that this world might play some part. Why else would it be the only place in the universe to find Kryptonian survivors?”

Ahhh! She keeps talking! All right, so she’s like “yes I noticed your fight with Superman, I shoved that fucker under a couch for now, he’s not gonna bother us” and concludes that she, Kara, Supergirl, she’s the only one powerful enough to stop her. Why she tells Supergirl this information, I’ll never know, but Reign next puts up a Super Duper Force Field 9000 that will prevent anything, ANYTHING, from interfering with their battle.

Now then. Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! F-

Still talking, Reign? Goddamnit. Well, at least this one’s rather important. Reign is smug to inform Supergirl that this force field is the same technology that her father tried to use to save Argo City. NOT unique technology. Her father ripped it off! Take that! Ha!

Now then. Fight! F-

There’s no fighting in this issue. Reign finalizes this issue with one more hard truth. Unfortunately for Supergirl, just like Kryptonians, more than one Worldkiller survived. And now Supergirl is surrounded by three more Worldkillers.

Final Thoughts

Well that’s not very fair, is it? Four against one? What in the Sam Hill?? Wait a dang minute here!

Oh well, it’ll all work out for her! See you in the finale.


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Spoon, Allegaeon, and The Linda Lindas

The year keeps on moving along, the backlog keeps on growing, music keeps getting released. Oh god, does it keep getting released. Artists and bands are just putting out music, like, constantly. What a world we live in! Here’s three more that I listened to and wrote about! Spoon’s 10th album, Allegaeon’s 6th album, and the Linda Lindas’ debut album.

Spoon – Lucifer on the Sofa
(February 11, 2022)

Spoon - Lucifer on the Sofa

When I listen to a brand new album by a bunch of old farts like Spoon, I feel it necessary to consciously avoid waving it off completely as a new album by a bunch of old farts. I don’t know where this mindset comes from. Maybe it’s because Spoon has already had their heyday long ago, and I perceive them taking up valuable space in the current zeitgeist? Maybe it’s because I automatically assume that a studio album release in the double-digits of a band’s discography will be expectedly underwhelming and superfluous? Misguided mindsets! Spoon’s got a great track record. Why would I unfairly saddle them with my own shitty preconceived notions?

What’s my point? I had to listen to Lucifer on the Sofa quite a few times before I felt it could successfully shattered my negative expectations. It’s for no other reason, either, other than that this is the tenth Spoon album. They’ve already made nine, and this is number ten; it sounds like a Spoon album. It’s not better or worse than anything else they’ve recorded. That means it’s good, I guess. Hard to get too excited, sorry.

What hits me first about Lucifer on the Sofa is that it’s got to be their most straightforward effort since 2007’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. Tight blues-rock songs with melodies and choruses! Like a rather uptight Rolling Stones with a fraction of the swagger, and that’s a dang compliment. Speaking of the Stones, “Wild” is a dead ringer for a Beggars Banquet-era Stones track. Deliberate? It must be. But it just goes to show the kind of balls these seasoned vets have. And earned.

For my money, this short and sweet collection of fresh, compelling songs is almost completely consistent. Their trademark slacker-adjacent sound is as quintessential as to be expected, with the extra touch of the production and recording decisions deliberately hearkening back to ’70s hard rock traditions. There’s definitely a classic rock warmth to Lucifer and the Sofa. Anyone who likes music should like this.

I just don’t really like the ending title track. Kinda drags!

Early Verdict:

Allegaeon – DAMNUM
(February 25, 2022)

Allegaeon - DAMNUM

Allegaeon is a metal band that doesn’t seem to know exactly what it wants to be, which isn’t really what you want to say about any band with six studio albums under their belt over the last twelve years.

My passing knowledge of Allegaeon’s output is a meager cache indeed. I’ve probably listened to only two other albums, and there’s nothing to really write home about. Credit where credit is due, their eclectic mix of melody-driven tech-death and metalcore sensibilities is accomplished, but the mix isn’t very homogenous. Usually I’d praise a band for diversity, but when the guitar tones run the whole range of preciously clean to scratchy and filthy, and the vocals bounce between moody prog metal balefulness to raspy screamo to ultra-low guttural growls to the occasional soaring pop punk crooning, there’s just too much throw out there to expect to stick. It’s overwhelming trying to find adequacy with the project in its entirety. And it’s pretty long anyway.

Like any flawed progressive metal album, there are plenty of isolated gems strewn about to give the listener what they might want. “To Carry My Grief Through Torpor and Silence” has a cool acoustic flamenco section. “Called Home” feels like a reasonably authentic outtake from an Opeth session. “The Dopamine Void Pt. II” displays the kind of Mach 1 punctuated vocal section that you’d expect from Archspire, and a respectable effort at that. “Blight” is my favorite track, which rips and roars through a chaotic multifaceted tapestry that works better than everything else here. I like the psychedelic industrial drones and the gorgeously speedy acoustic piano section. And vocals that don’t make me cringe! From beginning to end, this is the only track that really does it for me.

But most of this is just fine. I’d be hard-pressed to find this one on a semi-regular rotation going forward. I just finished listening to it for the umpteenth time and I barely remember any of it!

Early Verdict:

The Linda Lindas – Growing Up
(April 8, 2022)

The Linda Lindas - Growing Up

Now THIS is interesting! All-girl punk group made up of literal girls. As of this typing, their ages range from 11 to 17, so it floors me that the nascent beginnings of the band date back to January 2018! I mean, Jesus, the drummer was only seven years old then.

Even though the Lindas Lindas already have this unique characteristic going for them to help their distinction, the icing on the cake is that the music is also good enough to stand on its own merits, thankfully. It’s not incredible, and a lot of the band’s origin story smacks of an almost disgusting degree of nepotism and lucky connections, but any music listener worth his or her salt will be able to detect an incredible well of potential here.

Above all else, there is earnest outpouring of emotion and energy in both the playing and singing, of which all four members share instrumental and vocal duties. The pop-punk earworm of “Oh!” sounds like a mix between the riot grrrl intensity of Bikini Kill, the feminist hard rock of Sleater-Kinney, and the power pop of the Go-Gos. You get seething, angsty teenage numbers like “Fine”. You get social commentary with “Racist, Sexist Boy”. You even get the ballad of a pet cat with “Nino”, the killer of mice and rats! Gentleman by day, hunter by night, friendliest cat you’ll meet will protect you with all his might!

So, yes, a lot of this is cute and spunky with a lot of shallow subject matter and youthful energy, and what the hell else should one expect from kids? These are kids, man. Some day Eloise Wong’s dad is going to let them cuss in their songs, and maybe then the naysayers will get the complexity and depth they think they need from a punk band…but until then, enjoy the musicianship for what it is from four very talented girls. This is only the beginning.

Early Verdict:


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

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #3 – “Side Entrance”

* Part 3 of 5 of the No Normal storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #3 – “Side Entrance”! In the previous installment, we barely learn that a Terrigen bomb had hit Jersey City about 12 hours before the mysterious fog started creeping in, turning Kamala Khan into some shapeshifting weirdo. She has problems adjusting at first. And still does.

She makes her way back to the waterfront, where drunk, douchebag, jock Josh knocks a shrill, can’t-swim Zoe into the water. Ms. Marvel steps in to save the day! And then goes “buhhh” when she’s thanked by Zoe and congratulated by random lookie-loos.

Kamala gets caught trying to sneak home and gets hella grounded. It doesn’t take long for her to decide that she’s going to unground herself. Let’s see how that works out for her. Beginning to think she ain’t smiting no enemies anytime soon.

Just a reminder, these posts are about Ms. Marvel. If you want the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, that’s two doors down on the left.

Ms. Marvel (Vol. 3), Issue #3 [June, 2014]
Written by: G. Willow Wilson
“Side Entrance”

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

OK, introduction splash page! Time to give you Issue #3’s version of the backstory and see how it gels: “Kamala Khan has always felt different. Strict parents, nerdy interests, and now… strange shape-shifting powers? After accidentally morphing into her childhood hero, Ms. Marvel, Kamala saved her frenemy Zoe Zimmer from drowning. It was exhilarating! Until, that is, her parents grounded her.”

No mention anywhere of drunk, douchebag, jock Josh, which means you gotta stick with Tom Writes About Stuff to get anywhere near flavortown with these recaps, boyeee.

There are news reports all over the TV about Ms. Marvel (or, “a woman dressed as Ms Marvel”) saving Zoe’s life in the midst of the “bizarre outbreak of ground fog that covered Manhattan, Newark, and Jersey City”. Reporters talk to Zoe at her home, who mentions that Ms. Marvel is a sudden inspiration for her to “be responsible and help people and stuff”.

The Avengers couldn’t be reached for a comment. Carol Danvers hasn’t worn her Marvel costume in years. Is this a copycat crusader? Is she affiliated with these Avengers dorks? Is she acting alone in the city, just like that one vigilante bat-like DC hero we can’t name or else we’ll get our genitals electrocuted? Questions, questions! Kamala freaks out at the TV while eating a bowl of GM-O’s cereal. “I am so dead,” she panics.

Bruno and his brother Vick are watching the news through an electronics store window like it’s 1972. Bruno asks Vick where he was last night; mom and dad were practically having a stroke during the fog and Vick was nowhere to be found. Vick’s just like “pffft”.

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

Being a teenager is so hard. Nobody understands me.

Upstairs, Kamala scours the internet looking for anything that can explain her brand new X-Men-style mutant powers. Incognito mode is your friend, sis. Your brother Aamir is going to start snooping around like a dickhead soon enough.

Oh, there he is now! “Kamala? Ready to go?”, and she’s like “BALHABAH! NOTHING’S WRONG, I’M FINE, DICKHEAD,” and they both head out to Sheikh Abdullah’s Saturday youth lecture, which really sounds like a ball of a time. Aamir sits up front like an ass-kisser while Kamala and Nakia are in a different room, as is tradition in any religion of keeping the women far, far away pretty please and thank you. Sheikhy hoots and hollers about chastity, guarding pussies, look what almost happened to that girl who fell in the river! Alcohol and Satan caused that, everyone!

Kamala gets Nakia’s attention and starts asking her vague questions that are going to end up making her feel worse about herself. Stuff like “do you think it’s possible to just wake up one day and be a totally different person where the normal laws of physics don’t apply?”. Nakia asks if she’s on drugs and the Sheikh tells them both to pipe the fuck down. Kamala apologizes, but states that its hard to concentrate on anything when they can’t even see him.

Shiekhy McShiekhface tries to rub out a migraine and explain, once again, that the partitions and side entrances are there to maintain the modesty and dignity of the female congregants. So zip the lip. You can already see Aamir’s horrified surprise that Kamala is even speaking up at all.

Kamala continues to be feisty with the Shiekh while Nakia asks her to stop interrupting the congregation. She offers for she and Kamala to step out to visit Bruno at the Circle Q and get some knock-off Slurpees! They’ll be back before the lecture is over, no one will even notice they’re gone. Kamala is worried about upsetting her family further, but she succumbs to the dreaded PEER PRESSURE and tags along with Nakia.

On their way, Nakia asks Kamala to elaborate on whatever the fuck she was trying to ask her. Plus, she tried sending Kamala a bunch of texts last night. What was that about? So Kamala tries to explain, but she’s still vague about it, and she either thinks she’s going to be in trouble for the rest of her life OR she’s going to have the most amazing life anyone has ever had.

Nakia thinks she kissed a boy. Kamala is like “Ew! What? No.”

Bruno greets them as they walk in. Kamala wonders if that whole scene where she walked away pissed yesterday is just going to be treated like it never happened, and then she decides that she can’t handle it and storms off. “You know what, I really don’t want a squishee right now. I’ll see you at school on Monday, Nakia.”

Yeah, that’s a good way to quell all the arousing suspicion.

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

Check those BLTs again, you can’t rule them out.

The weekend must have been rather uneventful, because we’re already on Monday morning. I want to know if Kamala ever returned to the mosque! I want to see her parents chew her out for another fifteen pages! I want to see her brother sniff disapprovingly!

It’s science class during free period, so Kamala is doing some more research into her personal Alcohol + Satan matters. Across the room, Bruno stares at her. Kamala can sense it and wishes he would stop. “Okay, she is totally ignoring me,” Bruno tells Vick, “I mean, she is completely turned around like I’m not even here.” Bruno’s bald-headed brother Vick doesn’t give a shit, he wants Bruno to turn around like HE’S here and give him a hundred bucks! Steal it from the Circle Q cash register if you have to! Bruno says he’d punch his butthole so hard that he’d break his teeth if he weren’t his brother. Well, I say that. Bruno should’ve said that.

Bruno’s trying to make a “biokinetic polymer”, aka Flubber. He’s trying to make Flubber. It’s for his scholarship application to Rutgers (boooo). Applying the Flubber to something flexible will make it super stretchy. Like shirts or pants or jeans or shoes or gloves or hats or anything you want to wear, really, if you are super stretchy or something.

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

Pooping your pants in high school. The worst fear.

Kamala can’t concentrate, she can feel Bruno’s eyes on her. She can feel her parents’ anger all the way from her house. She’s also getting nothing but World of Warcraft Dungeons & Dragons shit on everything she tries to look up. Tension’s rising! Tension’s ri-… oh no!

Like that feeling when your stomach drops and you’re about four seconds from diarrhea all over the place, Kamala gets up and runs out of the room with similar urgency, drawing the attention of WAY more eyes than she’ll be able to feel at all! She tries to hide her right hand as she runs out, which has grown involuntarily, again. In the hallway, she yells at it to “Shrink shrink shrink!”, and it shrinks all right. Now she’s got a little rat hand. She runs into the gym locker room to hide and regain control of herself.

Since the smelly locker room is empty, Kamala takes the opportunity to talk to herself and try to work through getting used to her new powers. In the process, she grows big enough to crash a hole through the ceiling, and then rips benches off the floor to test her strength in giant-size form.

All right, that’s enough of that growing and shrinking and shrinking and growing. More to do! What’s next? Can she morph to look like anyone, not just Carol Danvers Captain Marvel? Yes! Sorta! She successfully attempts to turn into her mother after actually going for Taylor Swift, but that’s close enough! Very similar people, it’s all good. Not Freudian at all.

A rapping on the bathroom chamber door snaps Kamala to attention. “Nevermore” she tells herself, and she turns back into regular ol’ Kamala before the gym class shows up to all yell at her for destroying the locker room ceiling. “I found it like this?” she attempts to tell the coach, grinning widely. No sale. Detention time! Yet another reason for her family to be disappointed. Let’s keep racking them up!

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

Touched by a Marvel.

On her way out of the gym, Kamala bumps into Zoe and her entourage of jocks. “Oh my God, Kamala, you will not believe what happened when you left the party on Friday night.” And Kamala’s like, “what are you talking about, bitch, I was more there than you were.” But she keeps that to herself.

Detention time! Two rows away from the front of the classroom, Kamala tries to be slick and calls her mother to make up some excuse like “I’m sorry I’m not home yet, I lost track of the time.” Her mother calls her a degenerate and the coach tells her to shush. After the call she sees a text from Bruno who is like “stop ghosting me, bro”. So she decides to stop ghosting him and agrees to visit him at the Circle Q, putting off going home even longer in order to get in even greater trouble. For the love of the sport, of course.

On her way to the convenience store, Kamala has a deep philosophical conversation with herself. Topics run through head about her identity, her role in life now, if these changes are going to be too drastic to ever feel like her old self again. I say, it’s only been three fucking days, kid. Gotta break it in a little bit! She does wish, though, that she could be honest to someone, ANYONE, about all this. But who? Whom. But whom? Who’m. Maybe Bruno if she wasn’t still pissed off at him. Maybe Bruno’s dick? Even better…

“I’m not sure who owes who an apology, but somebody’s gonna come out of this really sorry,” Kamala groans as she enters the store. Here’s what I have to say about that: “who owes whom an apology”. Grammared again!

“Bruno,” she begins as she walks through the door, “I’ve been really pissed at you all weekend, but I’ve thought about it, and–” bzzzort! No time for that weaksauce apology bullshit right now, Kamala Chaka Khan! The store’s getting hella robbed by a hella ski-mask-wearing guy! Start growing some hands and whacking him around a bit.

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

Sometimes I don’t need to caption anything. Sometimes a panel is perfect as it is.

It looks like a somewhat genial conversation, though, so it’s probably Vick dressed up like an idiot, waving his gun around in this only slightly pre-John Crawford III era. Silly Vick! Kamala doesn’t know that it’s Vick, though. We the readers don’t know that for certain yet either, obviously, but Kamala’s heart is definitely racing more than mine is right now! So, without a doubt, she’s going to do a lot of acting-before-thinking right here! Ready?

She thinks to try 911, but her phone ain’t got no more battery. But that doesn’t matter! She has superpowers! “I am 911!” she remembers. But people are expecting Ms. Marvel, not a “sixteen-year-old brown girl with a 9pm curfew”. Bah! Don’t worry, Bruno Mars, help is on the way!

Yeah, it is Vick. Bruno is lucky he’s not going to call the cops on his dumb ass for trying to pull this armed robbery stunt. “Where did you get that thing, anyway? You don’t even know how to use a gun.” Bruno scoffs, and Vick takes that in stride. Gun’s not loaded anyway, watch: *trigger* *click* *Hiroshima blows up*

Anyway, Vick says this whole idea was Bruno’s fault for not lended him $100 like he had asked. It’s always Bruno this and Bruno that! Bruno, the smart son. Bruno, makin’ Flubber on his own time! “When the Inventor comes, things are gonna change. You’ll have to start treating me with respect,” Vick says mysteriously, to Bruno’s irritated confusion.

Vick doesn’t have time to expound upon this, since Ms. Marvel Kool-Aid-Mans her way into the store at this moment. “Put the gun down and step away from the cashier, you wannabe hipster punk,” she declares, uh, “menacingly”.

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

It took three issues to make the Bill & Ted joke.

She revs up a giant fist, ready to squash this piece of shit like a little twerpy bug, but Bruno tells her to hold her dang horses. She does not hold any horse. She slams her fist down on the counter, splintering it into kindling. Vick leaps out of the way just in time, then circles back to gut-punch her. “You shoulda stuck to rescuing bimbos, lady!”

Ms. Marvel scoops Vick up with her large fist and lifts him high up in the air. He thoroughly empties his bowels. “Hey! Lemme go! I’m sorry!” he gibbers while Ms. Marvel scolds him as if he were her good friend’s dumbass teenage brother. Before Bruno can admit that this is all a misunderstanding and this ski-mask jabroni is his brother, Vick yells to put him down. “You’re squeezing me really hard–” he whines. Ms. Marvel tells Vick that she’ll drop him if he promises to leave and never come back, and he agrees to these very diplomatic terms.

Kamala feels fuckin’ POWERFUL, man! Like she could really derail a freight train with her dick right now! High as a kite on this stuff! Destined to do great things! And, furthermore, sh–

BLAM!

Whoops! Oopsy! That’s the sound of Vick’s actually-loaded gun firing a round in Kamala’s stomach. Vick, distraught, stares at the gun like it has a mind of its own. Bruno is like “you’re shot ma’am”. Ms. Marvel, catatonic, is like “huh, how about that”.

Final Thoughts

It’s all fun and games until the teenage superhero gets a bullet in the gut!

Things are really spiraling out of control here. Throughout this whole issue I was imagining just how pissed off Abu and Ammi were going to be with each successive act of brazen, semi-delinquent behavior, but I never expected a goddamned gun to go off! Bravo, G. Willow Wilson, you certainly don’t see that in a tropey teen movie!


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East of West. Issue #10

East of West, Issue #10 – “Old Magic”

* Part 10 of 15 of the The Apocalypse: Year One storyline *

Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #10 – “Old Magic”! In the previous installment, Death and Oracle strike a deal: she helps him find his son, he gives her one of her eyeballs! Ahh, that old chestnut…

We also get some Crown Prince John Freeman of the Kingdom of Nawlins action. He talks to his King father about getting some money to bail out the financially collapsing Union. His father says “pffft, you’re getting played, son” and tells him to buy the country instead of loaning them money! The Prince seems amused.

As we’ve been seeing in recent issues, there’s a lot of tense shit going down among the Seven Nations of America! So very delicious, and I’m ready with my bottle of A-1 steak sauce (to drink).

East of West, Issue #10 [March, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Old Magic”

East of West, Issue #10

“You should fear what the future holds.“

That’s how I live. Always fear the future. No looking forward, gotta look back. Back is comfortable. Back already happened and I’m still alive. Forward is where I die!

And maybe even Death is thinking that, because he’s shrieking his stupid white head off at the gouging of his precious blue eyeball. Oracle mocks his fortune, since, you know, she knows how it feels to give and get nothing in return.

Death is irate! He came here voluntarily and now he’s being a crybaby about it. “You’re gonna need that eye to fully appreciate where you’re headin’” he tells her, quivering with eyeball-less empty eye socket indignation!

“What you seek is Heetse’isi’.” the little eyeball nudges, but Death knows what that means! That’s eyeball talk for “a grave”, you bastard! Death aims his gun: “Seen plenty of people crave a bullet in my day, but never one so greedy as this.”

The eyeball stays calm. I think. Who can tell? It’s an eyeball. “Your son is not there, but that’s where you’ll find the man who can tell you where he is.” A wild goose chase it is, is it? Just keep on hitting landmarks, talking to random nomads and spiritual entities, collecting nine crystals from all the dungeons to appease the Tree Gods? Death said that wasn’t the deal he signed up for. SON. NOW!

Oracle has no pity for this hunched-over sack of a cowboy, and gently tells him he can go fuck off if he finds this situation unjust or spiteful. After all, HE wasn’t the one who has been blindly buried under 800 miles of sea. Remember, honey? She also reminds him that the prophetic words, HER words, include a little line as such: “There’s Horsemen on the plains, the sky’s red as blood, and only the blind can see a better end.” So, there you go, that’s an upshot!

East of West, Issue #10

Or, like, a really good beef brisket sandwich.

Death keeps playing his death hand, the only hand he has. It’s like a 2, 4, 7, 8, J. Of guns. So he’s got a flush! Not a bad hand, I guess. And Oracle isn’t safe from Death’s hand just ‘cause she’s special and shit. Remember THAT one, dear.

And when Death says she wasted a trade, she begs to differ. She’ll get her freedom next time he comes around! Her freedom and so much more. Just you wait, sir. It might be another eight million years, but it’s gonna happen! Ha! Until then, she’ll just wait patiently. Maybe try to replay some movies in her head. Look Who’s Talking, that’s a good one. Bruce Willis as the baby.

“They lift themselves up as your betters. Take joy in watching them fall.”

Death and his crew approach Heetse’isi’. Another appalling landmark in the middle of buttfuck desert nowhere. This time they head toward a lonely tree. “It’s not ‘a grave’, Death…it’s ‘The Grave’,” pipes in his faithful Wolf by his side. This is where people who are cast out of the Endless Nation go to, uh, stand on the fence between the waking world and the other realm. Sounds very mysterious! I hope it has HBO and those magic fingers vibrating beds.

Anyway, Wolf is getting awfully nervous hanging around here. It’s where he grew up, his father’s land, and he doesn’t like it anymore. Time to go! But no. Sorry Wolf. “The Lady said this is where I need to be to find out what I need to know,” Death snarls over his shoulder. “So here I am.”

Several bones hang from the trees by rope. Several human bones. SKELETON bones.

Crow seems skittish too. “I can see for miles, Death, and he’s nowhere in sight. Perhaps the Oracle was wrong and he won’t be here.”

That little statement was met with silence. They’re not budging. Be patient, you chucklefucks.

Wolf’s super-shapeshifting wolf limbs start howlin’. He doesn’t need to see him. He can smell his presence. “Five miles west. He’s waiting for us at the Sea of Bones,” Wolf tells his captive audience. Apparently, it’s his “seat of power”. Where he can “fully manifest” and “call his true self over”. While eating “gas station hot pockets” and watching “Season 4 DVDs of Friday Night Lights“.

East of West, Issue #10

The lone cowboy flies solo again, eh? Well ain’t that ducky.

Wolf and Crow aren’t shy about their reservations, but Death doesn’t have any time for whiny piss-pants ‘fraidy-cats! Either come along or stay put like little pussies! Don’t forget, though, this is all prophecy stuff so whatever happens happens and all that. Don’t mean no nevermind to death and such.

Next we return to the Lair of the Beat, where, as you may recall, Death and Xiaolian’s son is hooked up to machines being fed all the universe’s information! Ain’t that cool? The computer continues its endless task of quizzing the kid on various logic puzzles and/or Sphinx riddles, but when it asks the kid questions of a more human ilk, he either doesn’t understand or he answers that he feels nothing. So this kid is just like me!

The Three Horsey Boys are watching from above, petulantly harumphing at the kid’s inability to feel! “Maybe I should see what happens when the thing’s femur is poking through its skin,” says Conquest with very little of that Ezra Orion motherly love. Famine tells Conquest to be a little more fucking patient. Monsters take time to cultivate. Conquest is skeptical that this Young Sheldon twerp is even the Great Beast of the prophecies. War is also skeptical: “The infallibility of The Word is not in question…but its interpretation? How often have we been wrong?” And Conquest says that they haven’t been wrong that much, so don’t worry about it War ol’ Boy. Girl. Whatever.

After some mulling over, Famine has a quirky little thought: maybe they are wrong! And they all kind of start coming to the same hunch. Whatever it may be. So their next task is to follow that hunch. Whatever it may be. And if there’s credence to their hunch, they’ll kill the boy.

And then they leave. And then the ruse is over.

East of West, Issue #10

Good show, everyone! That’s a wrap! We have eight more performances of this run before we take it to Broadway, baby!

Once Sonny Boy makes sure the coast is clear, the computer confirms that he is in grave danger. The forecast is about a month of survival, with a chance of meatballs, and after that the future becomes too unclear to predict based on algorithms and megabytes and Winsock TCP/IP gnomes. Time to switch gears! Enough theory, time for practical. With respect to the outside world, the not-hooked-up-to-a-computer world, “Teach me that world’s current geopolitical alliances. Also, please show me schematics for all related and relevant weaponry.”

And looks like Opie’s gonna learn the Art of War! Lesson One: blow everything the fuck up, for serious.

Enough of this child. Death arrives at the Sea of Bones, which isn’t much of a sea, but there certainly are a lot of bones. A paltry collection of bones this ain’t. It’s a lot of bones. There’s an Endless Nation shaman-type sitting atop a small hillock of bones. “I saw you here in a dream,” says Mr. Bones, “And caught a glimpse of what follows…” This is quite a mysterious, bony encounter.

Endless Nation Shaman, ol’ Bonesy, he tells Death that his attempt to fight fate is fruitless. He has no quarrel here at the Bony Sea of Bones.

“Your real enemy is yourself,” says Shaman.
“Well I beg to fuckin’ differ,” Death says with his trademark grimace and his monotone good looks.

Shaman recognizes Crow, snorting at her masquerading as some sort of human being.

Shaman recognizes Wolf too.

East of West, Issue #10

Daaaaaaaaad, you’re embarrassing me!

No wonder Wolf didn’t want to come. Yet another daddy issue wedged into this series. I’m looking forward to seeing Andrew Archibald Chamberlain maintain composure in front of his 130-year-old father in a future issue.

Wolf and Dad exchange pleasantries, but it’s time to cut to the chase. Cough up Death’s little boy or else you get the WOLF ARMS! RAWR! And Shaman Jones is like “ha, yeah, uh huh, that’s rich coming from you.” Wolf is not comfortable at all with this face-to-face reunion. He squirms and stammers, defending his decision to leave on account of, ya know, differences! But enough of that! “Please father… the boy.”

And Pops is all “nope”. Prophecy. The Message. What’s done is done! “We will all become what we must in these…the last days.” says Dad before completely evaporating in a plume of crimson smoke. This angers the Death-Man even more, and he’s always already pretty angry. “Here we go! He’s broke the plane and tunnelin’ pure dead time.” he hollers maniacally like a one-eyed piece of shit.

A lot of stuff starts going down, like the tornado scene in the Wizard of Oz. Death hangs on tight to the ground and asks Wolf what his dear old dad uses to anchor himself between the two worlds: the living world and the dead world. Uhhh, I dunno, an anchor maybe? Ha. Well, Wolfy doesn’t know. It all depends on how he chooses to manifest himself. Dad’s a decamorph, you know. Some real Dungeons & Dragons shit. He needs to reveal his final form, like a boss in Final Fantasy that takes four hours to beat.

“Show yourself, you son of a bitch,” Death yells at the torrent of wind and dust. Then there’s a deafening roar of a large skullface wooly mammoth thing. Nice final form, did you get that at the toilet store? Heh. Anchorman.

East of West, Issue #10

Gesundheit.

This thing is massive, easily 50 feet tall. *gets out measuring tape*… 53 feet tall. Crow recognizes the bastard as Cheveyo, who has barely had any screen time so far in this series, but you may remember him as Frowny Pigtail Man of the Chosen, introduced in Issue #2. Big Magic of the Endless Nation. Father of Wolf (Blitzer). Make a note of it.

Crow calls him a poseur, then Cheveyo roars, then another big explosion go boom happens, then a vertiable MURDER of crows starts swarming Horse Man and his Cronies. Crow-nies.

One tries to fuck with Death. “KAW! KAW!” it shrieks, trying to steal his gun. Death looks terrified and enraged; starts trying to blast the damn bird full of bullets. One cuts through its tail, then I guess a big stone spike appears…and then Wolf grabs the spike, launches into the air, apologizes for the sin he’s about to commit, and then stabs Wooly Mammoth Dad right in the chest. Understandably, this is pretty effective.

“You left me no choice,” Wolf claims as his father morphs back down to his dour, human self. Don’t worry, Wolf. Your dad isn’t mad. Just disappointed. “One path is The Message. The other…is not.” How profound.

Flashback time. Cheveyo taught Wolf everything he knows. Just like he taught John Freeman the VIII everything he knows. Now one is on the path. The other is lost.

Wolf begs for his father’s understanding while his father, like, is dying. “I stepped outside of our people the same as you… I did so because I believe in the things you taught us. But I also know your understanding of them is flawed. It’s why I had to leave.” So, in short, before you kick the fucking bucket right in front of me like a total butthole, tell me where Death’s son is right now or, so help me god, I will give you the biggest noogie this side of the Mississippi!

East of West, Issue #10

And in Dead Country, the one-eyed man is King.

Death, being the insecure pissant that he is, puffs out his chest and asserts his dominance. Listen pal, do you think you’re running the show here? In a place called Dead Country? HA! Cute.

Here I realize that Cheveyo has become a pile of red goo with a head attached. Death dishes out more tough guy Dirty Harry shit and gives him an ultimatum. “Tell me what I want to know and you live to see another day, Cheveyo,” he says, and who could resist such a deal! Looking like a Slimy Little Pile from Earthbound from now on.

Cheveyo, begrudgingly, starts mumbling about a lair, but Death cuts him off right away because his ears ain’t taking too kindly to this disrespectful mumblin’! “I said, we built a lair for the beast–you’ll find your son there.” It’s in a hidden forest, in a hole dug deep into the Earth. Where is it specifically, you ask? Well, it’s… it’s… IT’S… hold on… it’s… *cough*… the lair, you say?… well, the lair… the lair is… the lair is located… the lair… *cough*… it’s… it’s… hold on, I’m getting a call… what?… what?… no, you have the wrong number… I said you have the wrong number… well, actually that sounds like a pretty good offer… I have been paying too much on my car insurance, yes… ok, thank you… anyway… the lair… *cough*… *wheeze*… you can find it right by the McDonald’s at 23rd and–

Dead.

So Cheveyo explodes into a swirling black gorey pile of nothing. Death is furious.

We pan from the Sea of Bones, over the river, through the woods, miles away, revealing a sniper with a rocket launcher dog. Bel Solomon’s hired assassin, the judge-killing Ranger, assigned to murder each and every one of the Chosen.

“That’s one.” he says.

Final Thoughts

Could you have any worse timing, Death? Jesus H. Christ, sir, I thought you were punctual. Nice going. Good luck finding your little poindexter of a son now, Whitey.


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Sucky Funnies for April 17, 2022

Yo, it’s Easter, and the comics page largely doesn’t seem to know this. We’re also in the middle of Ramadan and Passover, but do you think the American newspapers are even going to touch those with a 400-foot pole? Hardly!

A small handful of strips do acknowledge Easter. Certainly those pesky Family Circus children will spend the 62nd year of their childhood attending church! Let’s take a look.

Zits

Zits - April 17, 2022

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Teenagers are insufferable, am I right? You try to do a nice thing for one of them, preparing a charitable little Easter basket, and they just go and pour a laundry detergent bottle of milk all over the contents. Typical. One step closer to type 2 diabetes.

tarball: “Hopefully those aren’t plastic eggs with surprises in them.”
Brian Bickley: “Wait till tomorrow morning. Those eggs are going to come out rough.”
mmt3k: “Wait until Jeremy discovers that Connie painted hollowed-out eggs instead of hardboiled ones!”

You got that right, everyone! Jeremy’s eating plastic for breakfast! Crazy stuff!

Family Circus

Family Circus - April 17, 2022

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My own dad was born in 1956, and I’m almost 100% sure that at least Billy should be older than he is. I feel sorry for the Family Circus parents, I don’t think they knew what they were getting into. Child-rearing isn’t supposed to take six decades. Just an infernal existence caring for ageless little urchins. Jeffy looks like Regis Philbin.

Are they attending a megachurch? Are they going to Joel Osteen’s Easter service, which probably costs $400 per person for a seat?

MadmanTX: “Wait til the crowd tramples each other getting out of the church when mass is over and then flips each other off in the parking lot trying to get out of their spaces.”
Bill F.: “We know the underwear comment wasn’t made by Thel…she goes Commando!”
MadmanTX: “The only family that the priest hands free condoms to at the door of the church.”
Bill F.: “Look at that satisfied smile, PJ’s just relieved himself!”

Looks like MadmanTX and Bill F. are the ones to watch for devilishly bawdy Family Circus commentary! Middle fingers? Mommy not wearing underpants? I don’t want to go to Hell for accidentally reading such ribald subject matter on Easter Sunday! :[ :[ :[

Curtis

Curtis - April 17, 2022

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Look at these good Christians! The Wilkins brothers are always attending church without their heathen atheist parents, and one of the proudest recurring Curtis traditions is throwing shade about all the women’s hats. As in, nothing throws shade quite like these hats! See, I can do it too.

Bucinka: “Have a blessed holiday, all, and don’t forget to rock your best Black Church Hat! (I like the pink one in panel 5… .)”
David Rickard: “He sneaks all that junk food in with him, Barry. And for the sake of your mental health–and to avoid losing your breakfast–don’t ask where he hides it.”
Bluegirl285: “Barry always chews Curtis out for making fun of the ladies hats, yet he’s the one laughing at those stale jokes.”

Oh boy, we certainly have fun here, don’t we? And yes, Bluegirl285, that is part of the joke! Thanks for stopping by.


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