Too confounded and infected to feel like writing about comics so far this week. But I hve just put all kinds of crazy crap up for auction on the eBay. Heck, buy your kid sibling that batch of old(!) Simpsons comics. He or she will thank you! Or maybe your mom likes X-Men antagonist Apocalypse. Show her you care by purchasing his origin miniseries! All these things and more at Mark's eBay auctions! Who are you to resist?

Comics I Shouldn't Own: Fatale #1

Writer: Jim Hooters and friends
Artist: JG-string Jones

Good god, look at the boobies on this woman. She's got titties till Tuesday on a Wednesday afternoon. They're gargantuan. They are, in fact, so big that her leather hatler top has slots on its sides to relieve the pressure. It's insane. Of course, we're also supposed to believe it's a statement on women in comics and the world and objectification and she's stronger and smarter than we can imagine and all sorts of stuff from the foreward by Jim Shooter that I couldn't manage to read.

It can't possibly be anything that'd justify this shot:

Fatale is a woman of ample proportions with the Rogue-like ability to sap "power" from other people -- you know, because she's so self-reliant and awesome -- so she can do things like fight off guys while her elbows are tied behind her back.

This being the 1990s, "they" are a group called the Brotherhood, some sort of organization, I assume "secret," bent on kidnapping and/or tying up and/or ripping the clothes off of Fatale. (I swear, if I ever write a comic, there's going to be a secret organization bent on seeing the heroine naked.) They attempt this outside an Atlantic City, New Jersey, casino seemingly at about five in the morning, what with the scarcity of witnesses and all. These guys really know when to attack a girl — except this being a Jim Shooter comic we know that it happens at exactly 9:17 on September 8, 1995. Her boyfriend Bill, ex-Brotherhood member (of course) helps her out of the oppressive steel cable. They go back to her hotel room where before making with the sex Fatale struts around in her underthings — now, hold on: she's wearing a strapless bra. With those zeppelins? I've heard actual women with real breasts complain about those things; no way a woman with DDD bazongas would even think about owning one outside of a comic book.

Anyhow, after hanging out on the balcony for a while the following morning, a helicopter drops a rope ladder — did I mention this is an Atlantic City hotel? — and Fatale is spirited away to scenic Toms River, NJ, where she meets up with her "teammate" Duke who calls her a fatass, grabs her by the wrists and hair, drags her across the floor, throws her into the furniture, and very nearly spanks her. Why he'd stop short after all that is beyond me. Sick of the abuse, Fatale decides on a shopping trip to Milan, except, being a fickle woman, she instead ends up in Central Park with Bill. After some blathering about their relationship she kisses him to find out if he's really on her side — yes, she has all of Rogue's powers — which knocks him out for a couple hours. Bill walks off in a huff when Fatale says she doesn't want to be his steady girl, and then Snake Eyes shows up with a bunch of his friends and buries his face in Fatale's crotch.

I don't think I'd be remiss in saying this comic is a landmark for women's issues in both the medium and the genre. Did I mention two of the friends who helped Big Jim write this were women? Did I mention the "Broadway" in "Broadway Comics" is the Broadway Entertainment that owns Saturday Night Live? I have to wonder what it was like for Shooter to work on comics with what looked like a big "V" on the cover, but it didn't last more than a year so it was probably not an issue. I also have to wonder what the hell people are thinking when they say a comic like this has anything to do with strong, independent women. But I also wonder what punching and kicking people has to do with being strong and independent, so there you go.

Meme Machine Go

More stuff to blame on Kevin.

1. Ten years ago:

When I was seventeen... just coming off what was, emotionally, to that point, the worst summer of my life... heading into my senior year of high school, a severely fun and theraputic fuck-off handful of months where I blew off everything but playing in the jazz combo, working as the manager of the school's student center, my Japanese language classes, and reading comics.

2. Five years ago:

A little over a year into my second try at the college thing. Rock shows and drinking and goofing around with some folks I knew from my first try at college who had moved into the area (the college friends my seventh grade English teacher warned me I'd have for the rest of my life).

3. One year ago:

Disney World with Amelie. Hot, sweaty, rainy, surreal, just as Uncle Walt imagined it.

4. Yesterday:

Doctor's appointment. Ear infection. Sleeping pills. Ear drops and antibiotics. Therapy referral. Finished reading Sleeper, finally.

5. Today:

A severe case of the crankies, as the sleeping pills didn't do all that much to help. I scalded my hand making tea and part of my breakfast fell on the floor.

6. Tomorrow:

A post about Fatale.

7. Five snacks I enjoy:

Pringles, Hershey's with almonds, plantain chips, orange slices, Funyuns.

8. Five bands I know the lyrics of most of their songs:

Beatles, Flaming Lips, Pixies, Cake. Dead Milkmen

9. Five things I would do with $100,000,000:

Can you get an island for 100 mil? I'd have the largest graphic novel/tpb collection in the world, buy the continued affection of all my friends, take my family on a trip, make sure my nephew gets everything he needs, and have a big farm where all my friends and family could live.

10. Five locations I'd like to run away to:

Tokyo, London, Paris, the part of California that's not a desert, a Carribean Island.

11. Five Bad Habits:

This assumes I have GOOD habits.

12. Five things I like doing:

Lazy Sundays watching bad movies on tv, hugging cats, reading comics, drinkin' beers, napping.

13. Five TV shows I like:

Futurama, Simpsons, Scrubs, King of the Hill, The Amazing Raze.

14. Famous People I'd like to meet, living or dead:

Stan Lee, Grant Morrison, Alan Moore, Matt Groening, Wayne Coyne.

15. Biggest joys at the moment:

Not going outside into the oppressive humidity. Sitting and reading through a whole comic without being distracted by something.

16. Favorite toys:

My big ol' Unicron is pretty goddamn snazzy. I can't afford the "grown up" tech-type toys I want. Can I count my comics collection?

Edited to add: Feel free to try this on your own weblog, but I'm not forcing anybody. And also edited to actually answer all the points.

I showed Kevin this image (from this site):

And then he sang to me:

Kevin: DID YOU EVER KNOW CHAOSMONKEY WAS MY HERO
Kevin: YOU'RE EVERYTHING BEAUCOUPKEVIN WISHES HE COULD BE
Kevin: AND YOU'RE GONNA POST THIS IN YOUR WEBLOG
Kevin: BECAUSE YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS.

It's nice to brighten someone's day.

This Blog, This Monster!

The Abysmal Pit isn't a personal weblog, as such, and it isn't about to become one. I will merely say the regretable sporadic posting/lack of updates borne of personal issues and the proverbial getting together of one's shit (i.e. mine) will hopefully soon come to an end. Not that the issues and shit-gathering are gone or completed. Far from it. For instance, I'm starting back to college again in a couple of weeks. After all these years of on-again-off-again schooling I am disgustingly close to my degree, which I hope to have within the year — 12 months, that is, not 2005 — because getting a degree before I'm 29 is one better than getting a degree before I'm 30.

And I've got some comics I'd like to talk about, like all the Quasar issues I just bought on eBay:

This random issue of Doctor Strange I lured from the depths of the Aybsmal Pit:

And, uh... *cough* this:

Maybe I'll even squeeze in some time to go to classes.