The Freebirds Wing.......

Watchmen 3 years too late

2012-02-07T11:23:00.000-08:00

This is something I wrote for Verbal Magazine on the eve of the film Watchmen being released, never edited or proofed and never used. I think its not too bad. I posted it here back in 2009 when there was actually nobody reading this as opposed to now when virtually no one is reading this . Obviously this is written with the layman in mind. Of everything on this blog I would appreciate feedback on this most of all. In all honesty I was blown away on first viewing of Watchmen , feeling that they had captured the spirit of the book perfectly. I have yet to re watch it, and as I move further and further away from the first viewing all I can say is that I find the lack of tentacles to be disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as that big blue fellas todger. Anyway.......

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

Super hero and comic book movies have always been big business. Ever since Richard Donners Superman made us believe a man could fly in 1977 there has been a seemingly endless stream of films of varying quality , form the brilliant ( A History Of Violence , Road To Perdition,) to the banal (Batman and Robin being a memorable disaster). 2008 seemed to be something of a pinnacle in terms of box office success and quality of content what with the success last year of the Incredible Hulk, Iron Man, and The Dark Knight. Anyone who went to the cinema to see the latter will have seen a trailer for another seemingly run of the mill super hero film called Watchmen. Most people who saw this trailer probably thought “Oh, what’s that? That looks like a good film. I may go and see that. When it comes out. In 2009. Probably” and then went on with their lives. But a select group of people (of which I am a member), probably came very close to wetting themselves at the prospect of this project coming to fruition. Comic fans have known since day one that Watchmen is something special.
Imagine your favourite book, song, and movie all combined into a single package: That’s Watchmen. The type of thing that you finish reading and immediately after the shock has worn off you wish you’d never read it so you can read it again. And then you read it again anyway. It’s that good. The term “greatest” is thrown around these days as if it was so much confetti, but take it from me, Watchmen is the greatest comic book ever. And I know that is a compliment roughly akin to being described as the best dressed man in Ballymena, but it really is something else. It punches above its weight breaking out from the confines of a ‘kids’ medium and making it onto Time magazines list of the top 100 novels of the Twentieth century. With the imminent release of the movie (recent legal issues not withstanding,) it seems like as good a time as any to take a look at this seminal work, and the wizard (literally) that produced it.

Northampton born Alan Moore had made a name for himself on the British comics’ circuit writing for titles such as Doctor Who, Captain Britain and 2000AD. His work on the latter had garnered him several UK based comics awards (voted for by, in Moore’s words, “50 people in anoraks with awful social lives”), which caught the eye of US comics giant DC who offered him the opportunity to write their (failing) Swamp Thing title. Rising to the challenge Moore somehow managed to take a book in which the protagonist was a walking compost heap from selling 15,000 copies to selling more than 100,000 copies.
DC rewarded this success by giving Moore a line of super hero characters from the recently acquired Charlton Comics that he could revamp as he saw fit. Moore felt that if he started the series off with the death of a major character that was well known to the reader then it would let them know they were reading something outside of the norm of the time. Eventually the rights to the Charlton characters were lost, but Moore carried on with characters that he made up himself reasoning that “If I wrote the substitute characters well enough, so that they seemed familiar in certain ways, certain aspects of them brought back a kind of generic super-hero resonance or familiarity to the reader, then it might work”. Taking the premise: what would happen if super heroes existed in the real( or at the very least a more realistic) world, Watchmen along with Frank Millers’ The Dark Knight Returns ushered in the era of grim and gritty comics that led to the creation of Tim Burton’s Batman franchise, and changed the way comics were written forever.

Set in an alternate version of 1985 in which Richard Nixon remains president, the cold war continues, and the United States and Soviet Union stand on the brink of nuclear war, Watchmen opens with the discovery of the Murder of Edward Blake aka The Comedian one of only two costumed crime fighters remaining in the governments good graces after vigilante activity has been outlawed. Rorschach a borderline socio-path and the only costume to operate outside the law starts an investigation into what he believes is a series of ‘ Cape Killings’ – someone murdering former costumed heroes. He launches an investigation contacting all former crime fighters including the paunchy down trodden Nite Owl, the self professed smartest man on the planet Ozymandias, and the super powered Doctor Manhattan, (the only genuine super being), who is becoming increasingly removed from his humanity. What follows is less of a super hero murder mystery and more of a journey through comics as a medium, as Moore pays tribute to comics’ history at the same times he is de-constructing and exposing the weakness’ of the super hero genre. With no super villains acting as antagonists the crux of he story became both the socio economic implications that the presence of a genuine super human would have on the world, and the (largely sexual) motivations that such individuals would have for their activities. Being that it was written in the mid eighties the tone is rather stark and grim, a commentary on the American psyche as it was during the Reganomics / cold war period. To say that the outcome of the narrative unexpected and shocking is something of an understatement ,in fact if I told you how the book ends you would dismiss it as the ravings of a deluded madman.

Moore choose David Gibbons as not only the artist for the piece but also co-creator, and often times copy editor, dealing with the several hundred pages of handwritten script and notes that Moore provided in a piecemeal fashion. A three or four page description of a single panel would often end with the note”If this doesn’t work for you just do what works best”. Gibbons insisted on a nine panel page layout which allowed him an element of pacing and visual control that he could predict and use to dramatic effect. After more than twenty years it is easy to forget that for all its success as a collected edition it was never meant to be read in that fashion, rather it was intended as a monthly serial piece allowing for suspense and cliff-hangers in the same way that contemporary dramas such as Lost and 24 do. Additionally Gibbons was able to use the comics medium to his advantage by adding a level of detail which was second to none, so in depth that even Moore himself is noticing new touches today some twenty years after its initial publication .In essence Watchmen was the first work to exploit the medium to tell a tale that could be engineered only in comics. Chapter 5: Fearful Symmetry stands out in particular for it experimental style, as Gibbons laid it out in a symmetrical fashion: the first page mirrored the last in terms of layout, with the centre page spread being completely symmetrical. It’s the small touches like this that you don’t really notice until the sixth or seventh read through.

The flow of the narrative is broken up by a comic-within- a –comic Tales of the Black Freighter, a pirate adventure book. The creators reasoned that a society that had actual super heroes would not be interested in reading their comic book exploits, and would instead enjoy other genres such as horror , detective romance etc. . The rich and dark imagery in the swash buckling tale made for an effective counterpoint to the contemporary setting. Each issue also included supplementary material designed to give a richer insight into the world of the Watchmen. These included psychological profiles, magazine articles, and an autobiography of a retired crime fighter. The book would loose nothing if these were taken away. They’re just nice touches designed to reward the careful reader .Eventually, as work on Watchmen progressed the strip took on a life of its own and strange synchronicities started to pop up unintentionally. The monthly publication of the title was fraught with delays, but it mattered little. The book was a massive commercial and critical success. DC rushed to release cash in merchandise. It remains in print till this day, and its influence is felt not only in the work of comic writers such as Mark Millar and Brian Michael Bendis, but in many other facets of Pop culture including the Acid House movement (The iconic smiley face image used on a hit Bomb The Bass single), and a recent appearance in The Simpson’s.

Things did not end happily between Moore and DC Comics, as in 1990 he refused to work with them any longer due in part to their treatment of him in the wake of Watchmen’s success . In fact Moore largely moved outside the mainstream preferring to approach work on his own terms. He continues to thrive however on the fringe of the industry, where he remains one of the most respected figures in modern comics. He does not however have high hopes for the forthcoming movie of his most famous work stating “There are things that we did with Watchmen that could only work in a comic, and were indeed designed to show off things that other media can't”. I for one hope that he’s wrong about that.

The Films of Alan Moore.

Alan Moore has a hate/hate relationship with Hollywood, so much so that he will not take payment from or watch any film based on his work .It doesn’t help that the films in question tend to be total cobblers. What are the chances of Watchmen bucking the trend? Not good by the looks of previous efforts……..

You're a naughty one, Saucy Jack.....

From Hell: Moore’s complex look at the character and psychology of the city of London, as told through the story of Jack the Ripper became, in the words of comedian Stewart Lee “A thing about a man who kills some women".

TO THE SHITMOBILE

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: In 1999 Moore and artist Kevin O Neil made a bold attempt to merge all works of fiction into a single cohesive narrative, which actually worked within the context of the strip. Film-maker Stephen Norrington added a sexy vampire and Tom Sawyer driving a Batmobile. Nice.

Demons ? No way!!!!

Constantine: The comics’ version of John Constantine (aka Hellblazer) was an embittered, alcoholic, cynical, chain smoking British, Noir style occult detective with no morals and a very dim view of human nature. The film version was Keanu Reeves.

Princess Leia hasn't been well.

V For Vendetta: The problem: America was always going to have a problem with the “Terrorist super Hero” introduced in Moore’s limited series. The solution: let’s change the main character from a ruthless anarchist to a romantic freedom fighter. Oh, and add an unconvincing love story and bobbins script while were at it.

DONG

Watchmen: Picture worth one thousand words.

Fat man Update

2012-02-06T11:54:00.000-08:00

At last check (Friday), i weighed 82.5 kg( school gym scale), or 85.0kg ( Boots Hackney Central). I have been making to the gym or an average of 3 1/2 times a week, and can now run for 40 mins before vomiting. Sadly my meat ban fell at the feet of a mighty bacon sandwich ( as detailed elsewhere on this blog). Man tits are still disgusting. it may take time until i see the necessary results.

Peace out.

An evening with HENRY ROLLINS~!

2012-01-31T12:21:00.000-08:00

GRRRRRRR, I'm a liar, etc.

n August of 1981, Henry Rollins left his job as manager of an ice cream parlour in Arlington, Virginia and got in the van of punk band Black Flag as their new vocalist, beginning a tour that carried him all over the world, continued through the life of his own Rollins Band and continues today as he performs his spoken word shows. The latest stop on this Mobius strip was London’s South Bank Centre, where a not quite sold out crowd was treated to an evening of ass-numbing proportions.

Rollins, resplendent as always in his customary black trousers and t-shirt combo, bounded onto the stage with the enthusiasm and energy of a man a fraction of his nearly 51 years. It seems that he is still an advocate of the Black Flag live performance aesthetic: there is not a wasted moment or movement during his two hours and forty seven minutes on stage. Two hours and forty seven minutes – that seem to pass in a trice – without moving from his mid-stage starting position, taking a drink or seemingly even pausing for breath. Despite his protestations – he states his anger is like his physique (“I work on it daily”) – it seems that Rollins has softened quite a bit over the years on the road, and rather than the full-blown ranting, sweating, “I’m a liar” polemics of old (though traces of them remain), his spoken word performances have become part stand-up comedy, part punk rock reminiscence and part outsider travelogue. In particular his accounts of visiting Korea and Tibet allow for many laughs and also personal stories of these Orwellian hotspots, allowing Rollins to prove that his angry outsider facade to be just that: a facade. Deep down, Henry Rollins is a people person, and you can feel that as he gives accounts of eating rats with field workers in India, dancing with cobra-wielding Christians in the deep southern United States, and mocking conservatives at his local supermarket. He is now more Victor Meldrew than Victor Von Doom, and he seems much happier for it.

Jesus wept: the Nineties man. The fucking Nineties.

I entreat that you catch him in performance in him while you can. You’ve just missed him in the UK and Ireland, but don’t worry: the van will swing around this direction again sooner than you think.The tour never ends, you see.

THE BEST BACON SANDWICH IN LONDON ???

2012-01-29T11:27:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm a big fan of the futuristic zero gravity sport HYPER -BOLE, the above statement strikes me as being a very grandiose claim. And yet the claim has been made by more than one person (most notably by this guy) that the mightiest pig in bap combo can be found not too far from Liverpool Street train station. Now, having been on a self-imposed meat ban for three weeks, it was decided that if I was going to break this dietary judgement error it was going to be done in dramatic fashion. Ever a fan of adventure (and swine flesh) I decided to put the outlandish claims of some fella I’d never even heard of to the test.

TO LIVERPOOL STREET ME HEARTIES!!!!!

If you are of a mind to make this mighty Hajj yourself, follow these instructions to the letter. Deviate in the slightest and you will meet a sticky end, for, you see, this part of London village lies thick with peril. Creatures of myth and legend walk the streets and many inexperienced travellers have met a sticky end upon the rocks of Shoreditch High Street. Anyway, leave the station onto Liverpool Street and head left towards Spitalfields Market.


Stay the course lads, stay the course.

You need to take a shortcut through the market itself so beware, my friends, beware that you do not listen to the siren song of the hipster shitebags that dwell within. For if you do, ye will be damned for all eternity (well, it will seem like an eternity) to listen to their tale of woe. And also about, you know, their new trousers, man, yeah?


Oh my god!!!! These trousers are like so tight yeah, that if i had any balls, right, you'd be able to see them.

Once you pass through this abode of the damned your goal is in sight: ST JOHNS BREAD AND WINE.


LAND HO!!!!!!!

Once you get inside, you'll notice that it seems like the staff don't see you. Apparently this is because St. Johns Bread and Wine lies on the cusp of the nexus of all realities and it takes a while to sync up with the vibrational frequency their reality lies on. Either that, or it's because it's just after 9 on Sunday morning and they are all still mangled from the night before, so to be safe make sure not to feel fear or you will surely burn at their touch.

You need six dollars for WHAT?

The first thing you will notice is that everyone is having the bacon sandwich, chiefly because there is fuck all else on the menu (see above). Go with the herd here. You will not be disappointed.

Errrrrrr, that's a big fucking sandwich!

Remember that scene in the great outdoors where John Candy has to eat a 96-ounce steak?

That'll do pig!!!!!

This is one big ass sandwich. It's not too much of a stretch to say that this sangwich very likely contains a full pig, and two whole breads. It's MASSIVE. The bread is baked in-house and the ketchup is homemade too. So fruity. So delicious. So good.

AIEEEEEE!!!! This giant sandwich will destroy us all!!!!!

As far as I am aware the claim is true: this is the best bacon sandwich in the parish. I give it my highest possible rating: OM NOM NOM

http://www.stjohnbreadandwine.com/

Highest possible recommendation. Tune in next week, when I pay a visit to "The biggest slag in Essex".

SATIRE!!!!!

Death to the free Newspapers.

2012-01-25T14:24:00.000-08:00

This is because I am in a foul mood today and need to vent .

http://www.metro.co.uk/home/

I think I hate The Metro. No. Wait. I know I hate the Metro . I lie awake at night , with sweat glistening on my furrowed brow thinking that if I was good or decent man I would channel my meagre income into a worthy cause such as the destruction of The Metro by fire-bomb. I wish everyone who worked for it or even read it was dead. DEAD. That’s how much I hate it . I FUCKING HATE THE FUCKING METRO.

The Fucking Metro.

To explain to those not in the know The Metro is a free newspaper given out for free in cities with major transport networks. Did I mention that its free? well it is . Free as a bird . Or free leaflets in a magazine. Or like Free, the group. And I know its very poor form to complain about stuff you get for free , but I feel I must.

When I first moved to London and started reading it I thought that it was a great idea , a nice way to pass the time on your daily journey on the tube. Hurrah a free treat. Slowly but surely however it became the object of my loathing and I cant really explain it. Well, actually I can. It breaks down as follows:

5% crap stories copied off the Internet.

5% lazy journalistic platitudes, ( I'm talking to you, Arwa Haider).

5% completely inaccurate “ Facts”.

85% this douche bag:

Colin Kennedy

Take a look at The Metros film review editor. Look at him with his greasy hipster shitbag haircut and his beady eyes .Look at his nice tie. LOOK AT HIM.

It was upon starting to read his film reviews that my opinion of this paper changed from vague indifference to raw naked burning hatred . Read some of this shit and hate as I hate.

http://www.metro.co.uk/film/reviews/887228-war-horse-is-saddled-with-sentiment-but-cant-be-described-as-a-ww1-film

Now part of the problem is that there is a newspaper to be turned out five days a week . I accept that. I also accept that this is most likely a combination of me hating this “ London London Ra Ra Ra look at us aren’t we top , Innit?” spirit that they insist on , and some sort of man-period . And I know its not very big of me to take pot-shots at a free newspaper on a blog that statistically speaking no one reads but for FUCK sake have a bit of pride in your work lads. Seriously . A full page on a month old video from you tube about a cat fighting an alligator? Or maybe I'm wrong , and its all fine.

Front page news, apparently.

I challenge you,The Metro. I challenge you to up your game. I challenge you Colin . I challenge you to turn out a review of a comic, sci fi or genre film without using the terms" nerd" or "geek" . I challenge you to write a review that doesn’t read as if you have not in fact seen the film but read the wikipedia article and guessed at it. I challenge you!! Also are you the same Colin Kennedy who edits Empire?

I've been sending abusive texts to their text section for over a year. They have yet to print one. I am stalking several of their writers on the Internet.

http://arwahaider.wordpress.com/about-arwa-haider/

I need help.

I'm going to bed now.

And don't get me started on the Evening Standard

CFX

Ps. I quite like the quiz and puzzles.

Operation: Man Tit Get Rid of Week 2.

2012-01-24T11:37:00.000-08:00

First update on this.

My weight according to the scale at school is 83.7 kg. According to Boots in Hackney High Street 85.8. Its a Start. I have forsaken meat now for 16 days . No appreciable change in disgusting cleavage or massive gut ( which maintains its appearance of an out of date Milky Bar Easter egg).

In the last 13 days I have two cups of coffee, my life as a result of this is a LIVING HELL. In the last 7 days I have had ten units of boozeahol. Last week I visited the gym 4 times averaging 26 mins per time. Which is pathetic. Will update you again next Sunday. If I can be bothered.

Stewart Lee is a British Comedy Award winning LIAR

2012-01-22T03:46:00.000-08:00

During my lifetime I have had exactly three discourses with my favourite comedian, Stewart Lee. For those of you who are currently asking "who?", below are two pictures of him: one in 1996 when he was working with Richard Herring on the BBC, and one from 2005 after he had finished eating Richard Herring.

So Young.

Anyway, the first of these discourses took place in 1995, when I sent a retarded fan letter to his Radio 1 show and received a very nice reply that I now realise was written by Richard Herring. The second was at a live show in the Playhouse in Derry in 2005, when he described a conversation that HE had instigated with me about the Incredible Hulk as "boring". The third was via email in 2007 and went as follows:

From : Ciaran Flanagan
To : Stewart Lee
Subject : Chippington Article

Stew, just wanted to congratulate you on the excellent Ted Chippington article in this weeks Guardian Guide. Any chance of a similar article on the " Super Moby Dick of Space " as mentioned in your Alan Moore interview ?

From : Stewart Lee
To : Ciaran Flanagan
Subject: Chippington Article

No

Which was fair (and funny) enough. The Super Moby Dick of Space was something that was brought up in an interview with comics legend (and Catweazle lookalike) Alan Moore on Radio Four as a long forgotten but interesting comics curio. I was obviously being a twat in asking about it. He answered in kind.

Big Up to my boy Glycon

However, Mr Lee, if that is true then explain THIS:

http://www.stewartlee.co.uk/press/writtenformoney/2010-11-00-dodgem_logic-super_moby_dick_of_space.htm

FOR SHAME LEE. FOR SHAME.

Anyway, I'm off to see the man this week and I can't wait because he is ace and fab. And buy his new book too. Available here. The Alan Moore interview is here.

THE SUPER MOBY DICK OF SPACE

DODGEM LOGIC NOV 2010

Next time you read a thoughtful article in a broadsheet newspaper about how 'graphic novels' are now serious literature, take a look at the American comic books of the fifties and sixties and remind yourself how far we, as a civilization, have come.
Pitiful four-colour daubs picture infantile, underwear clad simpletons, barely capable of reasoned thought, in battle with absurd aliens, deranged versions of their future selves, and cackling pantomime villains. It seemed as if these comics were written solely for the amusement of children, and it's impossible to imagine that within a few decades comics would have evolved to offer us the sophisticated geo-political travelogues of Joe Sacco (Safe Area Gorazde, Palestine, Walking With Israelis) the brutal scatological and religious satires of Garth Ennis (Preacher, The Boys, God's Cunts) and the erotic mysticism of Alan Moore (Promethea, Lost Girls, Perfumed Emissions).
But they did. How?

The Super Moby Dick of Space, actually a cumbersome astro-fish and not a cetacean at all, appeared only once in the comics universe, in a May 1965 edition of DC's Adventure Comics Featuring Superboy and The Legion Of Super-heroes (issue 332), and was clearly written in the not insignificant shadow of Herman Melville's definitive American novel, Moby Dick.
In The Super Moby Dick Of Space, a small fish is accidentally enlarged by one Dr Lampier, whereupon it flies into space to feast indiscriminately on metal ores. After The Super Moby Dick of Space gobbles up a space freighter, Lightning Lad battles it unsuccessfully, his injuries resulting in the amputation of his right arm. Dr Lampier gives Lighting Lad a new metal arm, ("This should give me the power to handle the Super Moby Dick", the Lad says.)
Then, like some kind of mad one-armed Captain Ahab in green tights, Lightning Lad vows secretly to destroy the Dick and leads the unwitting Legion Of Superheroes in its pursuit. A psychedelic, venom-induced vision stops the blood-crazed Lightning Lad slaying the Space Dick and eventually the innocent fish is shrunk back to its normal size.

From this précis, The Super Moby Dick of Space seems a typical example of the kind of accidentally surreal comic book landfill of the era (1).
But it is more than that. So much more. For The Super Moby Dick of Space is perhaps a key, if rarely acknowledged, element in the process by which comics have evolved from the pathetic scribbles of the post-war era, once consumed, as explained earlier, only by infants and those with poor reading skills, to the sophisticated graphic literature of today, stocked in best bookshops, and discussed in broadsheet newspapers, usually under the heading 'Comics Have Grown Up!'

And the seismic tremors that The Super Moby Dick of Space's writer Edmond Hamilton set in motion, when he first mixed the highbrow world of literature, in the form of his own fantastic re-imagining of Herman Melville's enormous sea-dwelling metaphor for human hubris, with the clanking world of dimbo comic book idiocy, are still being felt today.
However simplistic its depiction, Lightning Lad's obsessive, one-armed quest for the Dick chimed with the same philosophical truisms that Melville coaxed from Ahab's obsession. How many of Hamilton's previously passive readers must suddenly have felt themselves stirred by thoughts of the Super Dick into a quiet contemplation of what it meant to be human?
Hamilton's The Super Moby Dick Of Space began the process of saving comics from themselves. Hamilton taught the genre ambition. He taught the comics scribes of the future to chase their own white whales. But who was he?

Born in 1904, Hamilton's golden era was the twenties and thirties when he wrote, prolifically, for Farnsworth Wright's seminal Weird Tales magazine, alongside other favorites like HP Lovecraft, Jack Williamson and Robert E Howard.
By the forties, as Science Fiction became more sophisticated, Hamilton's Flash Gordon style space operas seemed dated, and in 1946 he began a twenty year stint penning stories for DC comics, then as now a publisher known for its charitable acceptance of once ambitious writers who had failed in more highbrow areas of literature.
But lest we should dismiss Hamilton as a hack, and the genius of The Super Moby Dick Of Space as a mere fluke, bear in mind these three key points in his defence.

1) After a few years writing the adventures of Lightning Lad, Captain Future and such like, Hamilton's own prose work was, according to sci-fi experts, showing increasing signs of sophistication, culminating in 1960's philosophically inclined novel, The Haunted Stars, still highly regarded today.

2) Like many male comic book writers, Hamilton was romantically entwined with a more talented female partner, whom one must assume had influenced his work. In 1946, Hamilton married the acclaimed, snow obsessed, science fiction author Leigh Brackett, eventually to become the screenwriter for The Empire Strikes Back, conspicuously the only one of the original Star Wars trilogy in which the dialogue is anything more than just the phrase "I've got bad feeling about this" repeated over and over again.
Stan Lee says it was his wife that urged him to give his crazy Spider-man and Fantastic Four ideas a shot.
It's a reasonable presumption that Brackett's encouragement might have given Hamilton the confidence to act on his ambitious The Super Moby Dick Of Space vision, despite the apparent restrictions of the comics genre.

3) In his essay Herman Melville : Space Opera Virtuoso , the Nebula award winning Science Fiction writer John Kessell describes how the young, would-be pulp magazine contributor Herman Melville corresponded with contemporaries like Fritz Leiber, Ray Bradbury, Alfred Bester and Edmond Hamilton. Edmond Hamilton! Stumbling across this essay on the internet, everything suddenly made sense. Perhaps Hamilton and Melville had cooked up Moby Dick together, Melville using the idea as the basis for the great American novel, Hamilton using it as the basis for the comic book that changed everything. Except of course the dates don't work.
Moby Dick was published in 1851, Melville died before Hamilton was born, and on closer inspection Kessell's piece is a delightful alternate history fantasy in which Melville invents modern science fiction in 1920s New York with his novel The Wail.
Kessell posits this Melville's Ahab as the captain of the Independent Research Ship Peascod, and he is able, "through alien symbiosis, to detect the forces that move behind the "pasteboard mask" of matter."

But behind the pasteboard mask of Kessell's temporarily misleading fiction, behind the fact that Melville and Hamilton did not know each other at all, and could not have done, lies a strange coincidence, which suggests Hamilton was the natural inheritor of Melville's visionary innovations, whether he knew it or not. When Melville wrote Moby Dick, the sea was the unknown, the limit of man's understanding of the physical world, the perfect location upon which to float the gigantic symbol that is the unknowable white whale. For Hamilton's generation it was space.
But maybe Melville saw this shift of focus coming, a shift eventually accelerated by Lightning Lad's grapple with a Dick of his own.
Melville's last novel was 1957's The Confidence Man. His prose was largely unappreciated during his lifetime and he lived out the rest of his days as a customs officer, and occasional poet, dying uncelebrated in 1891. But Melville's notebooks show that he was still at work on unfinished ideas, and that he was also a great reader of contemporary writers. An 1866 journal shows Melville clearly spellbound by Jules Verne's recently published From The Earth To The Moon, making notes comparing the sea to space itself, the frustrated and forgotten writer envisioning 'dark waves of black air', 'a white surf of starlight', and 'a voyage to the unknown suns, destined to remain unending'.
And, perhaps aware of Francis Godwin's 1599 proto-sf fantasy, The Man in the Moone, or a Discourse of a Voyage thither, in which basket-harnessed geese carry a passenger into space, Melville had begun to make some very strange sketches; - pencil drawings of a whale, borne to the stars by vast flocks of birds tied to its fins, its jaws snapping at manned, pencil-shaped cylinders.
But why? What was Melville trying to say? Was this space-borne Dick an attempt to extend the metaphor of the white whale in a medium Melville knew would soon be universally appropriate? And was this an attempt that Edmond Hamilton eventually and intuitively completed, one hundred years later?
Melville's Moby Dick gave the Great American Novel vast and unprecedented depths. Hamilton's The Super Moby Dick Of Space began the same process for the Great American Comic Book. Neither writer was given any credit for what he had done in his lifetime.

During his second and final attempt to slay the Super Dick, Lightning Lad is pictured in a wild-eyed visionary state, Dick venom from the wound that severed his arm finally having made its way through his bloodstream to his brain.
He pictures the Dick at the centre of a vast cosmos of interrelated beings, and realises that his intended vengeance is an offence to nature. "Everything that lives is holy," he observes, trembling, "energy is eternal delight." With these words, quoted presumably deliberately by Hamilton from William Blake's The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell, Hamilton not only assimilates the lessons of Melville's Moby Dick, but arguably improves upon them, plugging the novel into a wider consciousness of ecstatic moral relativism that Melville only hinted at.
And, on a perhaps less profound note, he showed those who were watching - Alan Moore included, I should imagine - just what comics might one day be capable of.

FOOTNOTE
(1) To be fair, there are other moments of incidental brilliance in the story, such as 'The World Of Dead Robots' that Lightning Lad briefly flies over in his spaceship. "Those huge mechanical giants, created to serve humans, revolted and drove their masters away.
Then, unable to repair themselves, they gradually stopped running and 'died'.", the lad observes of the rotting robots, depicted by the artist John Forte as resembling the denizens of some now abandoned Soviet era sculpture park.

I hope Dolph Lungdren doesn't read this.

2012-01-17T13:06:00.000-08:00

I’ve started taking an ass-load of supplements and stuff as part of my “un-eating all the pies and not being such a lazy bastard who fulfils none of his potential “ stratagem . I’ve got all the usual gubbins: Multivitamins Cod liver oil etc. But in a misjudged moment in the local Holland & Barrett, while I was searching in vain for red skin peanuts ( CURSE YOU HOLLAND AND BARRETT), I happened upon some Ginkgo Bilbao which boldly claimed to “ support mental focus and memory.”

Now I have no problem with long term memory in fact I can sing you the theme tune to a TV show that hasn’t been on TV in 25 years no problem.

Fogg, I'm the one who made the bet, now I'm sure I'll be exactly right on timmmeeee.

Short term? Err , Not so much. I am , how you say, a wee bit catty. As for mental focus it pretty safe to say that I have a very short attention spa OOOHHHH SHINY. So anyway I decided to try some of this snake oil for the hell of it.

Or a big, fat placebo! It's all the same crap!

NOW.I'm usually sceptical about stuff like this . It’s only been four days but....I think it might be working. Not completely as in I remember EVERYTHING ( although I keep remembering what a ballbag I am at inappropriate times ), but two or three times so far I've taken strange notions to go somewhere ( for example , the fridge) , with no idea why and then when I get there I remember something I was supposed to . Might just be a coincidence or......

I AM THE NEW JOHNNY MNEMONIC.

Johnny mnemonic is a 1995 film in which Keanu Reeves plays a man who carries data around in his head. Even if you've seen it you've probably forgotten it . Sadly , i can never forget. It is an horrible film . Shame on all involved . Sorry Henry

Ill keep you posted.

Operation: Man Tit Get Rid Of.

2012-01-15T11:31:00.000-08:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!

I of course realise that as a New Year's message that this is coming both a day late and a dollar short, but in this instance there is a method to my indolence. I wanted my first post of the year 2012 (eeek the world's going to end etc) to be a mission statement for my behaviour and efforts over the next 12 months, and it was important to me that this missive not get lost in the whirl of soon-to-be-broken promises and end-of-year platitudes. It definitely wasn’t because I couldn’t be bothered. Really. I swear. Honest.

Over the last two months of 2011 I became EXTREMELY lazy. I didn’t mean to, it just kind of happened. New job duties, plus finally getting a proper house (someday I'll talk about my hostel days, someday soon.) meant I was knackered in the evening so I just gave up. My diet and exercise regime went to SHITE, and my Herculean booze consumption did not help.

The results of this were twofold: I did nothing and I became fat. I knew this to be the case as my sister told me so on Christmas day as I was making fun of Adele for being a fattie. This is unacceptable. Therefore this blog will become a forum for me and you the almost-but-not-quite hypothetical reader) to track my progress in getting my writing output way up, and my weight way down. I will also become less lazy in terms of performing comedy as it is now nearly two years since I moved here with a view to performing stand up at least once a week and, thus far have managed exactly one gig (which went very well, thank you for asking).

At least once a week I’ll check in with my "Operation Man Tit Get Rid Of" ( working title).
I'll post at least one graphic novel or comic review per week.
I'll post one other thing of at least 500 words per week.
I'll check in with three other short pieces per week. This will chiefly consist of thoughts, pictures, or (more realistically) stupid stuff that happens me at school.
I'll loose ten percent of my body weight before the summer (hopefully in the form of disgusting adipose tissue that currently resides around my chest area in a grotesque parody of womanhood).
I will gig each month at the number of the month ( 1 in January etc.).
I will give my liver a break.

That doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch, now does it?

I rely on you, one of the <7 people who pass through here every day, to kick me up the hole .

For the record: my current weight is either 85 kg ( according to the school gym scales) or 86.5 ( Boots in Hackney Central).

I have forsworn meat (7 days currently) and caffeine (4 days), and booze is on the way out.

I visited the gym four times this week (and humiliated myself).

WISH ME LUCK YO!!!!!!!

Graphic Novel Review : Superman True Brit

2011-10-15T04:58:00.000-07:00

Superman: True Brit

John Cleese ( writer).

John Byrne & Mark Farmer(art)

Titan Books Ltd

John Cleese has made some rum Career choices in the last twenty years or so. A string of expensive
divorce settlements have left him a little strapped for cash and so his work has become more diverse
than in the past. Hence we have the kind of sort of nearly logical collaboration between ex-Python
and ex-pat John Byrne.

DC has a comics imprint called “Elseworlds” which allows them to imagine their characters in places
and situations that the constraints of continuity wouldn’t usually allow. It’s a fun little line that has
allowed Batman to take on Jack the Ripper, Superman to have a boxing match with Muhammad Ali,
and Green Lantern to face the aliens out of Aliens. Superman: True Brit imagines a world where the
infant Kal El, last son of the doomed planet Krypton, crash lands not in the wheat fields of Kansas,
but instead in rural Weston-super-Mare! He then grows up to enjoy all the trappings of a life in jolly
old Blighty. So it’s fun and japes as Superman attends a public school and plays cricket. It's fun and
japes as Superman drinks tea and tries to fix the NHS. Its fun and japes as Superman is scandalised in
the tabloids. It's fun and japes as Superman: True Brit is shite.

John Byrne was once a upon a time considered to be a visionary artist with near-legendary runs
on Uncanny X-Men, Alpha Flight and the series which redefined Superman for a new generation
of comics fans, Man of Steel. His once clean, clearly-defined artwork has become scratchy and
cluttered at some point, almost as if he’s trying to emulate Jack Kirby but getting it ever-so-slightly
wrong. There are two main problems at the core of Superman: True Brit. It’s not just that it's bad-
- although it most certainly is bad-- it’s more that it fails so spectacularly to live up to its creative
pedigree. Additionally it would be very easy to jump to the conclusion that the creators had
never even been to England let alone come from there. Every pathetic sub-Austin Powers British
stereotype gag is trotted out and milked for all it's worth. There are issues of The Beano with more
genuine laughs than this bilge. Much more humour would be expected from the writer/artist of the
hilarious Sensational She Hulk, and the man who wrote the FUCKING DEAD PARROT SKETCH.

This is probably the best joke in the book.Really.

If we ever needed a final piece of evidence that the coin of John Cleese’s comedic genius had been
well and truly spent (presumably on yet another divorce), we now have the proverbial smoking gun.
Avoid like the plague. Or the Great Fire Of London. Or the Spanish Inquisition.

ANOTHER CRAP ZOMBIE JOKE

2011-10-09T15:12:00.000-07:00

POP FACTS NUMBER 2

2011-09-25T03:41:00.000-07:00

POP FACTS.NUmber 1

2011-08-22T06:43:00.000-07:00

a joke in picture form : what do vegan zombies eat?

2011-08-21T07:57:00.000-07:00

Fear : the whole ting

2011-08-15T02:36:00.001-07:00

F.E.A.R . PART 3

2011-08-13T16:42:00.001-07:00

FEAR part 2

2011-08-12T15:54:00.000-07:00

You got the fear.

2011-08-11T05:34:00.000-07:00

Started this as part of the 2d Fear anthology that we put out for the festival in 09 and it never got finished. Anyway here is the first part......

New Freebirds Wing Strip :WTF?

2011-08-04T08:34:00.000-07:00

Latest page from my forthcoming autobiographical strip/egofest. Asking the most important question one can in the year of our lord 2011: What the Fuck ? Art by the fantastic Hayley Gale. One need only click to view in all its glory. Appreciate any feedback

CFX

The Best Bit Of Work Produced By My Pupils This YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-07-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

Ten week module on the Holocaust and anti semitism. This is what she got out of it. Im the best teacher ever.

THIS CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALl

2011-07-22T12:50:00.000-07:00

The Amazing Adventures Of The Direct Debit Clipboard Charity Shitbags!!!!

2011-07-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

Pleased to announce my forthcoming humor/autobigraphical comic provisionally tittle either " Bastards I Have Known", or more realistically " The Freebirds Wing". I hope to upload at least one page or strip per week and aim to have the first issue ready before Christmas. Heres The first strip by the fantastic Hayly Gale. Any of you artistic types interested in drawing a strip or three let me know.

Feedback is most appreciated for either the strip or for the comics title. Be well John Spartan

CFX