Doctor Who: Fifty Stories For Fifty Years: 1969
February 11th, 2012
It was the end…but the moment had been prepared for.

Far more than The Tenth Planet, The War Games was the end not just of a Doctor, but of Doctor Who itself as it had been known up to that point.
The Theatre of the Direct Market
December 8th, 2011
In the great play, the play of the world, the one I always return to, all emotional souls occupy the stage, whereas all creative people sit in the orchestra. The first are called mad (alienated); the second ones, who depict their follies, are called sages (philosophers). The eye of the sage is the one which lays bare the follies of various figures on the stage. — Denis Diderot

Ayo, to find out Joel AKA The Direct Marxist’s theorem’s you must peer ‘neath the cut
Bunyan would have blushed
August 11th, 2009
or Crisis? What Crisis? (part one)
This one:

Think of him as 2000AD’s awkward cousin. He and Tharg used to get on great for a bit, but while The Mighty One went into his teens still drunk on the heady surge of Thrill Power, Crisis was always a bit serious. Self consciously so, you could say. You know the routine: went veggie. CND badge. Amnesty membership. Morrissey lyrics sung at high volume to that face in the bedroom mirror. Didn’t make friends that easily, and sometimes seemed to try hard not to be noticed at all, but on rare occasions he’d come out with something that would really be worth paying attention to.
Gary Lactus’s Vault of Tymbus #1
January 19th, 2009
I had nothing much to do this afternoon so I thought I’d visit my vault where I keep Tymbus. He’d been in there all week with only Amazing Spider-Man #583, Final Crisis #6 and The Spirit movie for company. In the dark and damp he stewed all week over these limited stimuli. Here’s what he had to say to me:
Iranians can be cartoon characters too
June 24th, 2008
Persepolis, graphic novel and movie reviewed.
Autobiography has become the life blood of mid-ground comic books. Sometimes the lives recalled are woven into the fabric of dramatic and horrific events of global historical importance, sometimes the events described are decidedly quotidian. In American Splendor (Vertigo, 2008 ) – which often immortalises lives of no particular consequence other than the fact that they are being lived by human beings – author Harvey Pekar rants, ““I’ve done a lot of stuff in my life I’m not proud of but at least…” and then lists such non-acts as “never got high and shot my wife in the head” and “never conned my country into a needless war to boost my ego”.


