April 11th, 2016
Hey everybody, did you see the big new Superman and Batman? I know! It was pretty alright, right?
What the heckery was going on with all the bad reviews? They’re really going overboard aren’t they? What’s that all about – fifty bad reviews in the Guardian? Guardian, what are you guarding while churning out such shitness??
Of all the children, this one is my favourite: clever mediasays Donald Trump, being clever, but fails to nail the dynamic at work. What influence the papers have is only their ability to shape potential negative space around an ongoing mass discourse that plainly thinks they’re all wankers. (AKA every Trump hitpiece is free money for Trump.)
January 11th, 2016
A great black hole has entered the world.
When the tears have subsided there will perhaps be more to say on this, but for now just want to put something up to mark the day and share this, which was rattling around my head a lot lately and last week especially. Check the bouncy little 303 squelch thing from about 00.55. He was ferociously good while dying.
Photo by Mick Rock, 1973. Jacket by God, infinity.
November 15th, 2015
For the true sweetheart James Baker, who commissioned this post for the princely sum of five English at Thought Bubble 2015.
Consider comics as the villain, the vampire. Justify your fandom, old man, given the charge sheet: comics – even without the usual allowances for cultural items produced under the malign spell century 21 supercapital death and hell machine – are an unusually fetid example of the commodity form. Through comics, shitty social conditions are endlessly reinscribed upon the global bodynerd. Thanks to comics, the fresh ideas of 80 years ago lie rotting in the multiplexes to kill our children still. Thanks to comics, trees die, carbon sinks are emptied, and the condensed solar energy of yestereaon is re-released to make a furnace of our home.
With comics thus being definitely the most awful of things, how do you justify your continuing interest? Is it just a parasite hunched on your shoulders, whispering retrograde fantasies in your ear? Is it a bundle of bad automatisms rolled up in your muscles and making you walk onward into the same fug of wrong as ever before?
And what about this pretty cottage in the heart of Leeds? Here at Thought Bubble 2015 (day two, sore heads and bitty memories unable to sully the warm glow of an evening well spent), right in the beating heart of ethical comics, the planetary crisis is still quite visible. It might even hold the key to something else, for a blog or so at least.