Welcome to Near Mint Condition, the far too irregular/theoretically weekly comic book column. When this rotting husk of a column manifests, its intended use is to share the various comic titles that we are all interested in on a given week. Audience participation is requested – nay – required to make this monster’s heart beat. Should you not see a comic listed that you’re interested in (and you will, my taste generally is lacking), share it in the comments section. Let’s do this.

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I probably should be reading Batman #16.
I haven’t read Batman in the ill-minute. In fact, I probably haven’t read Batman since the phrase “ill-minute” was only horribly lame, and not deep-fried in stupidity. Alas. This issue right here is the conclusion (I think) of Snyder and Capullo’s take on the Joker mythos. You know, because DC had to reboot-relaunch-refry their Universe and everything that Was Old is Old Again. However, the current creative team is fantastic, and I’m sure whatever they have unleashed during this current arc has been fantastic. I’ll have to catch up in trade.

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I’m glad I have a brother who will buy the One Trick Rip-Off / Deep-Cuts HC.
I dig Paul Pope. I don’t usually let onto this, because most of my friends gloss their bellies with lust for the guy. So instead of adding to the fervor, I typically rib the mind-smith for his inability to put out (the apparently finished) Battling Boy. My hidden love, however, is nothing in comparison to that of my brother. Homeboy keeps his Paul Pope collection behind bullet-proof, fluid-resistant (supplication is required) plexiglass. So I’m leaving it up to him to snag this glorious fucking tome. For $30, you can inherit 288 pages of Paul Popery. Doper still is that 150 of those pages are filled with rare, unpublished, and allegedly enchanted pages. That’s right, I’ve read on the Internet that eating them will actually imbue the consumer with both the talent, and fashion sense of Pope himself.

I’m serious.

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Goddamn, I can’t wait to read Saga #9.
2012 was the year in which Saga blew my ass out with its roaring righteousness. So far, 2013 seems to be continuing the trend. Extrapolating the issue’s plot from its cover, I’m guessing we’re going to see a flashback featuring The Will and his lovely post-humanoid former-girlfriend The Stalk. Jesus Christ, look at what Fiona Staples has rendered. The Will got pectoral muscles for days! And The Stalk, yo. So many hands. Butt play, nipple play, and booger play? (It exists in the Saga universe, I promise you. Just read my fanfic) At the same time? Ridiculous. Hell yes.

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People more intelligent than me say The Black Beetle: No Way Out #1 will rule.
I am not intimately familiar with Francesco Francavilla’s work. This is a personal flaw more than anything. However, I have been intimate with printouts of this comic’s first ten pages. Real good, and vigorous like. This title has been dragged aboard the hype train, and after you read the preview you’ll understand why. You like gorgeous art? Read this. You like pulp crime stories? Read this. You like beetles? Read this. Shit, I do too. Once I ate an entire jar of them for some reality show, only to find out that my neighbor was just fooling with me, and in retrospect there was no reason for me to be doing it in the nude.

That is about it for the stack I’ll be amassing this week. What about you guys and gals? Hit me.

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For more of my bullshit, hit up Omega Level. I apologize in advance.

Welcome to Near Mint Condition, the weekly column where we share the various sequential treats we’re gobbling up off the shelves. The wonder of this column is audience participation. No shirts, no shoes required! Just sit there in your dingy underwear, your sweat, and seminal soaked (oh man am I typecasting our lot or what?) t-shirts and recommend a slurry of titles for me to check out. Don’t know what being snapped into brown plastic bags this week?  Hit up Comic List.

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Couriers Complete Collection TPB
What fresh fucking hell is this? There is a Brian Wood collection dropping that I ain’t never heard of. Color me a bastard and prepare my back for self-flagellation. Couriers is a Wood collaboration with artist Rob G that dropped in four installments from 2002 until 2005. Early Wood! I am very much the excite. There is a rawness to early Brian Wood that isn’t there in his newer stuff, having been supplanted by a refined swagger that I still worship. So while I don’t lament his evolution, I am quite happy to engorge myself on his early material. What is Couriers about? What the fuck do you care? It’s Brian Wood! Oh, you only have a limited amount of money and need to be wise about spending it? In that case the jam is about “mercenary bike messengers in New York City who do the jobs no one else will: the black market runs, the smuggling, the hits and the double crosses.” I’m there. Oh, and it’s mad cheap on Amazon at the current.

Wood also has new issues of Conan and The Massive dropping this week, with both series being pretty goddamn entertaining.

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Batman #15
Okay, so I haven’t read the last couple of issues of Batman. I don’t fucking care, I’m recommending the title for two reasons. First off, any gentleman who dresses himself in latex and fights a man covered in make-up is faithfully replicating my ideal Friday evening. For that I must give him both props and my money. Second off, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo’s run on the Flying Rodent has been the sparkling gem at the center crest of the superhero portion of the New 52. It has stripped down the excessive mythology of Morrison’s run which had burned itself out by the end, replacing it with some earnest humanity. And gadgets. A fucking fuck load of gadgets.

(Side note: Superman is hot as hell with a beard.)

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Image Firsts 
Image has dominated my soul this year, with the House that Eric Stephenson Helms releasing fantastic title after fantastic title. If you have been one of those errant souls who didn’t hop aboard the deluge of righteous titles as they arrived, Image is embracing the holiday spirit and doing you a solid. This week they’re releasing reprints of the first issues of a batch of legitimate titles for $1. Pow! Goddamn, that hardens the nipples. Saga, Manhattan Projects, Chew, Walking Dead, Fatale and more are all offering themselves up to new believers for the low price. Take this chance at redemption my friends, take this chance.

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Old City Blues Leather Bound Hardcover
Shit, some weeks all you want are fetish objects. This leather-bound edition of Giannis Milonogiannis’ graphic novel is so gorgeous I get  a bit dribbly in the ground just looking at it. I’ve been enamored with Milonogiannis ever since I came across him this year in Prophet, and chased the dude down to this creator-owned. I thought I had reached the pinnacle of worship, but then he cut an interview with our own Rendar Frankenstein that confirmed he was, in fact, the man. The year of Milonogiannis (and Graham, to be fair) can only be faithfully concluded by me hunting down this beauty. It is sold out everywhere I have checked, but no worries.

First you cloak yourself in blood. Then you cloak yourself in darkness. You wait patiently, anticipating the prey leaving the story. A visceral downward strike with my Diet Mountain Dew bottle with incapitate the subject. From there it is a quick rummaging through their objects, and the lamentable but necessary act of dragging them into the nearby bushes. I figure after I repeat this for thirty or forty people across seven or eight stores, someone’s personal pile of loot will hold the golden ticket.

Right?

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For more of my nonsense, check out Omega Level.

Welcome to Near Mint Condition, the column where all of us goobers get together and share the funny books we’re interested in buying in a given week. There is nothing so magical as hitting the shelves on Hump Day and snagging some comics to drag our wayward asses through the final two days of drudgery. Except maybe winning the PowerBall. That seems really magical. Plus, if I won it I wouldn’t have to scrape gum-covered quarters off the inside of trash cans to buy my comic books. Shit, that sounds pretty neat. Okay, so buying comic books is second in the line of majestic happenings. But it’s a close race. So, uh. Yeah. Again, welcome to the column. If I don’t mention your favorite weekly drop, let me know it in the comments section. If you are one of those booger-eating maestros who is too busy attempting to calculate the enormity of the Multiverse to know what is coming out this week, hit up Comic List. It’ll do you good.

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Avengers #1.
Finally! If there is any title that is going to pull my ass out of the pall that Marvel Now! has plunged me into, it’s this jam right here. Johnny Hickman and Jerome  Opeña are teaming up to bring the galactic back into the Avengers. The two creators roll deep in my heart, and I’m leaving it to them to find me and save my spirit. I’m am sitting in an alleyway, wearing my Heroes Reborn t-shirt and muttering about the good old days. Even though I’m fatigued with every single Marvel title seemingly relaunched on an annual basis, they will lead me out of this alley. Holding their hands, I’ll walk right back into Fanboy Hall. Bolstered by the knowledge that my favorite Marvel writer is penning its flagship title. Or what was their flagship title until they uncorked Uncanny X-Vengers or whatever. I’m getting negative. I’m getting negative! I need to stop. It’ll be good. It has to be good.

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Hellboy In Hell #1.
God damn! Did you know that Hellboy died last year? I did. I read the comic! Funny how that shit works. Nothing good can stay buried in the world of funny books however, and the Horned One is being granted new comical life in the bowels of the Inferno. Mike Mignola himself is arriving onto the scene to draw his creation for the first time in many a moons, and that’s enough to get me interested in the title. What exactly does Hellboy do in Hell? Isn’t that like going home, or something? Is he going to eat a pizza with Mom? Groan. Insert trite audience laughter. Worry not! I read the advertisement. There are totally secrets to be revealed. Guest appearances from Hellboy’s wonky neighbor Beelzebubba.

Whatever. Words are just drizzling out of my fingers. You can tell this is just vamping because I’ve never really followed Hellboy religiously (pun?), but I’ve snagged him here and again. I’m going to use this wondrous moment to attempt a following. I hope.

Side note: Any devout Hellboy fans want to recommend a story or two for my perusal? Hit me.

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There ain’t a multitude of titles hitting the shelves this week, and that’s aiight for two reasons. First, it saves my pittance of an allowance from evaporating with over a week to go until the next paycheck. I am a poor ass academic surviving on tutoring wages, though to be fair, what I am paid for what I do is patently ridiculous. Second, the comic books that are dropping have my tits tweaked. My nips are a deep, hungry red, begging for the funny rags to fiddle them.

This den of perversion and adolescent banality is Near Mint Condition. Within these walls we shall all share the comic books we’re excited for on a given week. I know my tastes sucks raw farts out of my dead grandmother’s ass, so remind me of the titles I missed. If you don’t know what is arriving on a particular Wednesday, Comic List will help you out.

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FF #1
This title is too odd to live, so snatch it up while you can. Born from the more unrestrained portions of Matt Fraction’s gloriously throbbing brain-stem, FF is a title that seems mainstream only in name. Teaming up with Mike Allred, Fraction is penning the tale of what happens when the Fantastic Four throw up the deuces for an entire year. Who would replace them? What would happen? It’s a batch of madness that seems to hit its fucking pinnacle with the introduction of Miss Thing. A Hollywood burnout pile of mess that Johnny “Lay Dat Pipe” Storm hooked up with. She doesn’t have any superpowers, but she does have a Thing suit. Fraction is at his best when he is answering the least to the Editorial Kraken, and while I’m not certain he seems to be free-wheeling here.

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Multiple Warheads: From Alphabet to Infinity #2
I am unabashed when it comes to how hard I ride Brandon Graham’s tip. As I ride it, I scream out to passersby, “Behold! Never a tip rid so shamelessly! It hits the prostrate and then I moan!” Parents shield their children’s eyes. I just shrug. I double-down, writhing against the creativity that Graham infuses into everything he does. Be it King City or Prophet or Multiple Warheads. All of them are wonderful. This week the second issue of his Warheads  mini-series drops. I’m sold. Sprung. Lubed. Let’s do this.

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Technopriests Supreme Collection [Total reach purchase]
Every so often I come across a release on a given week that I can’t purchase. But I really wish I could. This week it is the Technopriests Supreme Collection. The oversized limited edition son of a bitch is all of Alexandro Jodorowsky and Zoran Janjetov’s science-fiction tale in one hefty package.  Oh, it seems glorious. I never read it back during its run, and I doubt I would have appreciated it even if I had. It was before the drilling incident, far before I received accidental enlightenment. But now its madness seems right up my alley. Alas, it is not meant to be. Even at Amazon’s discounted price it remains unattainable for me. However, maybe you’re affluent. Or a fan. Or careless. Buy this. Mail it to me. I have fingernail clippings and haiku I am willing to exchange in return. You say no? I figured. At the very least, check out the preview at CBR.

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Thor: God Of Thunder #2
Real talk: I missed the first issue of this series. Even with that unfortunate development, I’m still amped for this second issue. By the Lords of Valhalla, it’s like my first issue! Yeah, that’s me rationalizing being a negligent piece of shit. The LCS sold out of the first issue, and I just took it off the chin. There was every opportunity to step out of my relationship. Nothing stopped me from running a covert mission to another store. Nothing, save my rampant desire to sit on my ass with every free moment. Refreshing my Tumblr. Staring at butts. That sort of thing. So I’m going to try this again. Once more with feeling. It’s viking metal being conducted by the beastly talented composers Jason Aaron and Esad Ribic. It may not be your thing, but my fat geek ass grew up with power metal and Lord of the Rings.

That is it for me this week. What are you lasses and lads of the sequential artwork excited for? Eh? Hit me.

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For more of my utter idiocy, check out Omega Level.

Hello friends and welcome to Near Mint Condition. The comic book shop group-wank turned internet-based (non) sensation. Here within these hallowed halls we gather, sharing the various comic books, graphic novels, clusters of sequential art, and plush, slightly erotic dolls we’re buying on a given Wednesday. If you’re not certain what’s coming out, hit up Comic List. If I omitted your binky, let me have it the comments section.

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Avengers vs. X-Men #12
Consider this the equivalent of the asshole flipping to the back of the book and screaming “Snape kills Dumbledore!” I have only indulged in one issue of Marvel’s latest Flabby Windbag prior to this finale issue. Only one. Yet, I can’t help but be curious about the conclusion. Especially since there are a few titles rocketing out of the Event’s fecal-flinging vomit gut that I have an interest in. So what the fuck, why not? I’ll partake in this little exercise in obsolescence. Restructuring a Universe? Give it a year. Shaking a status quo? Wait until the movie comes out. He’ll be wearing the right suit. She’ll be back in her own body. All that cynicism, and here I am, though. Curious. Remember kids, the crack dealers always win.

Nao of Brown
Truth time! I hadn’t heard of Glyn Dillon or Nao of Brown until August. I know, I know. I’m overrun by flatulence and ignorance, knowing neither of which more dominates my existence. However, thanks to Mark Kardwell at Robot 6, I’ve been learned. Had the old egg of knowledge cracked across my face. It’s hard to describe what exactly the graphic novel is about, thought the above link will paint a bit of a surreal picture for the curious people in the room. (Just got into an internal debate over surreal versus surrealist, realized I had just gotten home from campus and decided to watch thirteen seconds of scat porn instead.) An official excerpt can be hit up at publisher’s website, which lets all of us cretins know that “Nao suffers from violent morbid obsessions, while her compulsions take the form of unseen mental rituals.”

Okay. I see.

Just trust me on this one. Take a break off from your capes and Event Conclusions and snag this bitty. In fact, don’t tell your LCS but it is way, way, way on sale at Amazon right now. Go. Do it. For the medium.

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Hell Yeah TPB Vol #1: Last Day On Earths
Color it the week I got drunk, ate too much Campbell’s Chunky Beef Stew, and puked on my neighbor’s lawn! They called the cops but I hid in the creak until they finished circling the hood. Don’t tell me Grand Theft Auto didn’t teach me nothing as an adolescent! Fooey! Wait, that isn’t the sort of week you wish to color? Well, how about you color it the week the first trade of Joe Keatinge and Andre Szymanowicz’s Hell Yeah! drops. I bought and loved the first issue, but sadly it found its way off the racks of my LCS. Business as (shrinking industry) usual. So now for a mere $10 you and I can indulge in a collection of multiversal ultra-violence and intrigue. Seems like a good goddamn idea to me. Then again, I’m also the guy who hides in creaks covered in flakes of pseudo-beef. Take my advice at your own discretion.

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Also; In addition to:
Uncanny X-Force #32 is dropping, and while I don’t sweat the title like I used to, I’m reading it until Remender leaves. Fear not, DC fans! I have swag for you to shove into your stuffy groin-satchels. New issues of Swamp Thing and Animal Man are hitting shelves. I haven’t been keeping up with both titles, and for that I pay a weekly penance. I stare at my pull list, questioning why I can buy AvX and not catch up on the Snyder and Lemire awesomeness. The answer is clear. It writes itself across my psyche in a bloody scalpel scrawl: I’m a piece of shit. Finally, Daredevil: End of Days is bringing Bendis back to the character he used to rock before writing 1,329 titles and spraying witty banter across all of them like plague-soaked butter.

There are all these titles and more! What are you pulling?

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For more of my vomiting bullshit, hit up Omega Level. I make cup cakes.

Ooph! It’s been a minute. How have you all been? I haven’t written this column in what, a month? Or so? Haven’t been to the comic store either in about that much time. It doesn’t have anything to do with a lack of love for the medium. Just been busy. Did my first convention, and been spitting annoyed at the idea of DC jacking off to the New 52 and Marvel yet again unleashing a torrent of new #1 issues. I recognize that doesn’t mean I have to punish the indie creators and all the other interstellar wonderful comics out there. For that, I apologize. Lords of the Funny Book, with ragged knees and cut-up hands, I drag myself to you in supplication.

Let us return to Near Mint Condition, the column where we share the rags we’re picking up on a given week. Don’t see your title in my list? Good! Hit me up with recommendations. Audience participation is crucial.

Don’t know what’s dropping? Hit up Comic List.

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Wolverine and The X-Men #17
Speaking of neglecting things for a while, I had initially dug on Wolvie Leads the X-Men before launching myself off the train at the beginning of AvX. I had assumed it would be some relentless tie-in, hocking parcels of the Event out to those who need every little nougat. Like most often in life, I was wrong. Especially with this month’s offering. Jason Aaron and Mike Allred? Offering up a story centered around Doop? Absolutely.

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Prophet #29
The deeper we go into Brandon Graham et al’s relaunch of this jam, evermore does madness encapsulate it. I’m down with this. Completely. I’m not even particularly certain what happened last issue, I just know that I enjoyed it. I don’t know how well this title is selling, but I pray to the Lords Above that somehow it continues to hit the shelves every month. If you haven’t jumped aboard this sparse, mind-warping space journey yet, I encourage you to do so. Snag the first trade, and ride the delusion.

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Happy #1
I haven’t been feeling Grant Morrison as of late, what with him cladding Superman in jeans and having him rage against the machine. Maybe this new title coming out of his glimmering alien consciousness will reignite my fanboy loins.  I’m equally as stoked for the artwork, which is being provided by Darick Robertson. Cyeah! I know you hate me for typing cyeah. So. Cyeah! Robertson won me over many moons and a thousand jack-off sessions ago with his work on Transmetropolitan, and his teaming with Morrison could portend of something wondrous.

I mean shit, it’s $3. I spend thrice that a day on Diet Dew. I can abstain from one caffeine binge to roll on this.

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So that’s my swag for the week. What are you folks reading?

Wednesday. The delicious oasis in the middle of the weekly grind. Deliver us from 9-5. Deliver us from Cubicles. Deliver us in the form of weekly sequential artwork. Laser beams. Righteous makers. Providing just enough escape to slog through the last two days. This here is Near Mint Condition the column where we share the various titles we’re excited for on a given week. This column is powered by audience interaction, so if you see my poor taste and me abstaining from mentioning a title, throw it into the ring. Sharing is caring.

Don’t know what is arriving on shelves? Hit up Comic List. It’s cool. We’ll wait.

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Butcher Baker the Righteous Maker #8
Man. It’s been a good slice of time since the last issue of Butcher Baker smashed its way onto the shelves. It stunk of seminal fluids, and kept calling everyone weak-kneed socialists. Goddamn, it was a sight to behold. Now after all this time, Butchie is coming back into my life. I’ve been so fucking lonely, and he didn’t even care enough to post a teaser on CBR. I know I shouldn’t let him persuade me. With his muscles. His stellar goatee. His fantastic artwork, provided by Mike Huddleston. Seriously, guy is a beast. But I’ll cave. I’m a coward. I’m weak for metatextual madness. Somewhat uncomfortable objectifying of women. And the essays in the back by Casey are worth the price of admission alone. Now the only problem is that I don’t have a goddamn clue what happened in the seventh issue. I’m sure there was punching. Some swearing. Gorgeous art. Some sort of spiritual metaphysical plane?

I’ll have to go hunting for the title in my sweat-soaked dungeon.

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Deluge of Marvel titles [I'm a fanboy]
I know I’m a Marvel fanboy. I’ve known it since my Mom came into my room, finding me with my Wolverine figure in my ass. She screamed, I screamed. She told me I needed to go back to Sunday school. I told her that his name was Logan and we were in love. She started knocking after that. This week there are three Marvel titles holding my attention, and I apologize for none of them. First up is Daredevil #17. I haven’t followed Murdock religiously since Daredevil Reborn stunk worse than my fart-huffing jar. I know Waid’s run has been critically acclaimed. I know. I haven’t read it for whatever reason, but I’m snagging it this week. Why? Mike Allred! The fortress of talent is bringing his skills for a single issue. That’ll get me out of the dungeon. I love Allred’s aesthetic, and goddamn I can’t wait until he teams up with Matt Fraction for FF. The second title is Captain Marvel #2 powered by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Dexter Soy. Goddamn, does Soy’s art sizzle. I wasn’t familiar with the artist prior to the first issue of Marvel, but I’m firmly in love at this point. Finally, there is Uncanny X-Force #29. Solid book, month after month. And I can’t exactly skip it, knowing that my Logan does a good deal of cutting and maiming throughout it. Don’t let his bloodlust fool you, dude is a lover.

(more…)

Greetings, Earthlings and interdimensional lurkers. It’s Wednesday, and that can only mean one thing. Time for me to lumber down to the LCS, notice that they don’t have the two comic books I want, and flip a shelf. Scream loudly. Dive head first through the glass, trailing blood and tendon dangling from said shards. Scream at drivers as I run wildly through traffic, picking bits and beads of skin and  skull out of my Kingdom Come Superman t-shirt. Stumble into a ditch. Write this column telepathically, using the fading moments of my consciousness to commune with you folks.

Let us share, as darkness dawns on crumbling psyche, the comics we want to buy this week. Certainly, with shredded skin and violated visage, I’ll miss something you’re eager for. That is half the fun. Don’t know what’s coming out? Hit up Comic List.

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Massive #3
Low and behold, it is this comic book that is sinking my psyche’s battleship. As I wandered the racks today searching for the comic book I was sweating, it was nowhere to be found. Eyes went red. Fingers began to twitch. Neither, I promise, due to the two liters of Diet Mountain Dew I had upon waking. I’m a fucking professional addict. There was no Massive #3. Nowhere. Good glory, I was even at the shop three hours earlier than usual. The room tilted, cracks in the ceiling marching down the spine of the store. I cowered, feeling a Hulkian fanboy writhe in my rotting, caffeinated guts. Certainly this is a far cry from the picture I painted of Massive whilst anticipating its second issue, but as I suspected at the time, it was some world-building afoot.

I must scour the Erf for this third issue, even if it kills me.

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Godzilla: Half Century War #1
James Stokoe rains electric eccentricity straight from fervently firing synapses all over the page.  From Orc Stain to his rendition of Galactus. It’s all fucking fantastique madness. His knack for detail and energy throughout the page constantly has my my taint sizzling. Do you know what sizzled taint smells like? Mainly glazed ham. But also love. Stokoe’s work is wrought with such violence that it makes sense the good son of a bitch has donned his lizard paws and birthed this Godzilla mini-series. A longtime fan of the character, Stokoe has been given the reins to pen the tale of the Lizard King across a half-century.

I’d gawk at anything the maestro ripped bleeding out of his meat-helmet in complete adulation. Anything. So the fact that he is unleashing Gojira upon us fangirls and fanboys is a blessing.

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Batman #12
How do you follow up one of the more enjoyable Bat-stories of the past few years? You pump your breaks, homies! Not so much that you spill delicious cocoa all over your lap. Not that hard. Be subtle. Just hard enough to give the reader time to digest the previous eleven issues. Here is where it gets tricky. How do you keep the audience’s attention? For starters you have a writer like Scott Snyder, the man who has steered Batman’s ship for the past year and change at this point. Always good. Then you throw in something wondrous  Unexpected. How about some Becky Cloonan up in Gotham? Whaaa? Word! Cloonan has been a favorite of mine from her work with Brian Wood. The tandem have crushed it on a variety of titles, but few tales in recent years have moved me as much as their Northlanders two-parter, “The Girl in the Ice” did.

Tremendous.

To have the absurdly talented Cloonan rocking out on such an emblematic title is exciting. That’s how you get someone to care about an interim issue. A talented writer, and a surprise visit from an unexpected artist. Righteous.

(more…)

Welcome friends to the place for fans of the sequential art, thrice-engorged breasts, and monologuing. This here column is the watering hole where you can share the funny rags you’re snagging on a given week. The hole itself is Mountain Dew laced with hallucinogens, so right about the time all our faces become gaping maw anuses rocketing lasers into the night sky, begin screaming your choices while running into the wilderness.

You may notice that my choices are indubitably not yours, and that’s cool. Use it as an opportunity to recommend the hotness that no one else is mentioning, or perhaps has not heard of. If you don’t know what’s what titles are arriving this week, hit up Comic List.

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Harvest #1
Pow! Speaking of hallucinogens, one of my favorite mad cap mind-fucks from the past few years of comic books was Cowboy Ninja Viking. Month after month it owned. Unfortunately, the son of a bitch slowly evaporated into non-existence, leaving me without the hilarity and ultra-violence it once brought. Upon news of its cancellation, I sat alone in my basement, clumsily eating Chez-Its in my underwear and ruing this darkest of timelines. Well glory fucking be, the writer of said comic book is back on the scene with Harvest. It may not feature triple-personality killing machines, but it seems to offer the same dented soup can look at reality.

This book writhing out of the damaged psyche (I say this with both love and admiration) of A.J. Lieberman is about an ex-surgeon who is hunting down illegal organs paid for by the rich and famous. Black market organ transplants in reverse! Give me back that liver, you swine. Ain’t going to be anything pretty about this, and that’s why I’m so excited.

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Dopest of swag I should be reading.
As I often opine, there’s too many good titles dropping for me to keep up with them all. I know this runs counter-intuitive to the general malaise that can be applied less than judiciously all over the comic book market. Say what you will about the cranium-cracking madness that are the endless events, but amid the fireworks and confetti parties there are countless qualities afoot. There are several titles coming out this week that I either haven’t been able to find, couldn’t afford, or I am behind on. First up is the beastly Animal Man #12. Goddamn I need to plow trough the first trade of the Lemire run. There is also Dial H #4 and Mind MGMT #3 to consider. The self-flagellation afoot over my failure to snag Matt Kindt’s latest is remarkable. Bloodied back and glassy eyes, I contemplate my own failures.

So uh yeah!, good week. Solid reminder that there’s a deluge of excellence underneath the chunky, well-manured soil of extravagance that coats the industry. In the near future, when I’m dressed up as Scarlet Witch (sans undies, they twist whilst fighting) and bellowing “NO MORE EVENTS”, please read this aloud to me. It may be a light for me, when all other lights go out.

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Hawkeye #1
Don’t let that little fan fiction Jossy Whedon penned convince you otherwise. Natasha Romanov is straight-up destined to be in love with the most Wintery of Soldiers. Hawkeye? Really? When she can be hanging out with James The Better Captain America Barnes? It’s elementary. One dude runs around pretending he’s Katniss, the other has a cyborg arm and used to roll with the KGB. Aiight, aiight, I know I’m being a bit harsh.

In fact, I’m rather enthused with Clint Barton gaining his own title. I mean, Sweet Lords of Kobol, we’re talking about Matt Fraction and David Aja. The minds behind the criminally under-appreciated Iron Fist. The two of them could team-up for anything. Anything! With their powers combined, no, they are not Captain Planet. They’re Captain Sexy-Prose-Gorgeous-Art. It’s not nearly as succinct a captainship, but at least once a month they arrive and punch the midweek blues straight in its dangling donger. Ennui succumbs to their blazing tandem.

Since we’re on the Marvel tip, I’m also grabbing Ultimate Ultimately Miles Morales-Man #13. Less than enthused because the title is getting sucked into the maelstrom of the current even vibrating through the molecules of the Ultimate universe, but what can you do? Such is the aforementioned nature of the beast.

Them the titles I’m looking forward to this week. What’s tickling your fancy.

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For more of my stunning pop-culture vapidity, hit up Omega Level.

Welcome, welcome, welcome, to the funny book column at the end of the Internet. Or perhaps more specifically, at some abandoned asteroid-mining station spiraling into terminal descent. We here aboard the rickety ship don’t have much to comfort ourselves outside of the weekly comic book drop that comes courtesy of the spectra-gryphons sailing the solar waves. Drunk on cheap bathtub fermented moon juice and delusional from the vertigo, I admit my picks for worthwhile comic books can strike the bow a bit askew.

That’s where you come in, friends. Pull down the the blast shield long enough to bark out your finds in staccato bursts, before retiring to your dimly lit crevice in this here rotting rooster of a spaceship.

Don’t know what’s coming out? Pivot sharply and race down the cyber-wells towards the glowing info-cube. Comic List.

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Spaceman #8
This Azzarello and Risso jam drops almost every month, and each and every time it makes its way towards my heart. Wriggling underneath my spacesuit, biting its way through my coarse unwashed loins. It nuzzles up next to my meat-pump and crones into my soul, “see, the Apocalypse can seem appealing!” The sort of fetishistic appreciation for our own Doom. An appreciation for it that we must embrace, lest we get subsumed into the despair of our rotting culture, reality-show cults, and economic disparity. I’m not sure how I’d do it, but after catching Beasts of the Southern Wild recently, I would love to work some sort of juxtaposition between the series and film investigating physical locations and how they’re reflective of socioeconomic situations. There’s something to be said for the parallels of “Drise” in Spaceman, the levees in New Orleans, and the discussion of it in pop culture.

Or maybe I’m just a bored graduate student looking down the barrell of jacking off for the fifth time today.

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Manhattan Projects #5
Superior being Ray the Destroyer put it best recently when he opined that he had no fucking idea (swear words mine, sentiment his) where this title was going. I sure as shit don’t have a clue either. That’s fine with me. When the spectacle kicked off, I would never have anticipated the title running through the end of the second World War by the third issue. Now the title is evolving into utter mayhem. Doppelgangers upon doppelgangers. FDR’s dumb dead consciousness gone full artificial intelligence. Genocidal aliens.

This jam could spit as the monthly funny book equivalent of an X-Files “monster of the week” issue for the next two years, and I’d be sated. Yes Hickman, unfurl your alternate history fetish for all of us to lick upon. Yes Pitarra, continue translating Hickman’s banana bread madness into gorgeous pencil. And for fuck’s sake let us not forget Jordie Bellaire and her gorgeous colors on the title. I mean, I can’t recall a title where my simple simian brain-skull was so titillated by the strategic use of color throughout a work.

Bonus.

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Marvel Fanboy Pants Stain
Weeks like this make it clear that I an an unrepentant Marvel fanboy. Or rather, some odd derivation of the fanboy apparatus. To be a fanboy implies a dearth of metacognition. That ain’t happening over here. I’m aware, all too aware, of my proclivity for the marvelous universe. As well, it isn’t like I’ll defend them to the hilt if they’re going way errant on the reals. I just dig on their universe. Slop on the lipstick and go to smacking town when Eddie Brubaker, Johnny Hickman, Sam Humphries, or Rick Remender comes aronud. That’s why I’m sweating new issues of Uncanny X-Force, Winter Soldier, Secret Avengers, and Ultimate Comics: The Ultimately Ultimate Avengers this week. I know it looks bad. Especially when you come into the computer room and I’m wearing nothing but frosted Hulk mitts and I’m licking Rick Remender’s Twitter timeline. Just remember folks, the love is real.

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