Mindless Ones

It’s a slow one for us, so we have joined forces like Voltron, whatever Voltron is (I know what Voltron is because I bought a very cheap Voltron DVD the other week. It was a ripoff – Voltron is a load of old shit). This could get more like one of those old Sugarhill Gang tracks that goes on for ever actually, on eof those ones where they’re just talking about their socks, what they had for dinner, and, most rivetingly, about how their neighbourhood has got, like, a really cool bridge or some shit like that…

These are the comics that have hit us in our brainless brains this week.

From all the Mindless Ones to all our lovely readers. Sing it Princess:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXcb7VPw59s]

Is it the mulled cider talking, or is the way that she’s stroking and hanging on to Chewbacca throughout that clip about the horniest thing there’s ever been?

Articles of the Shame of a Common Man ~ #1 ~ Things I’m Glad No-one Knows About

A long time ago Laura, who I mentioned in the review of Phonogram 2.1 a year ago and is in no way like the character who once reminded me of her so,  set me a challenge to which I was too weak to rise. She said: ‘If you love Dexys Midnight Runners so fucking much, come into our trendy metropolitan university one morning dressed as one of them circa Come On Eileen. Dungarees, kerchief, hat, the lot. And I will give you fifty English pounds.’ Scared stupid, and unwilling to give her the satisfaction of pissing herself laughing at me while I got stabbed by less tolerant fellow students, I declined, without so much as a too-rye-aye.

Smirking lke a Cheshire cat, she christens me. ‘Your Phonogram name will be, ‘ she says (except she didn’t of course, it’s just how this could have played out if you were writing the scene like that now… The bit about the bet’s true though, and the name:)

<i>Princess Dexy</i>

Here in Mindlessland our habits and schedule are all over the queue-crammed shop at the moment. At this time of year half of us are likely to be so drinkfucked that, instead of being busy at our blog-desks we’re far more likely to be found sleeping underneath the pier, the night tide slurping away at our feet, kindly come to take us away from the brain-pained horror of waking up again. So with that in mind, all conventions merrily abandoned in the name of seasonal silliness, there’s no Tuesday Reviewsday nonsense tonight. What could have been a dispirited  recap of the (byrne-stolen, sorry) SWORD #2, I thought instead I’d concentrate on taking one of the characters from the issue, and nostalgically telling the world about why he is so ace, why British comic readers of a certain age are so giddily stupid when it comes to the galaxy’s deadliest freelance peace-keeping agent, Death’s Head.

What follows is an account of his finest moment. Better than when he went toe-to-toe with Galvatron even after having his arm ripped off. Better than when he took out the entire Incinerator Jones Clan. Better even than his first appearance, when he killed that barman for asking him to pay for his tab. Yes – it’s Death’s Head vs. Shockwave.

Look at Galvatron’s mental face! Calm down!

In response to this slice of post ironic pop-cheesecake she says to me she says, ‘Just because they’re not superheroes, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be ashamed.’

Loook readers, you can see her knickers! Le Fwoar!

Click this link to kill the future!

• Kick off web of the week this week with Horror Panegyric on Supervert – an essay-length digest of the book of the same name, a critical overview of David Britton/Michael Butterworth/John Coulthart et al.’s impossible to find/even harder to untangle verboten splatterpunk masterpiece Lord Horror,  its sequels, and the variant iterations of the icon in other media. The essay itself is tight and very readable, and most interestingly through it you can find throughout and parrallel extracts from all three super-obscure novels (Lord Horror,  Motherfuckers: The Auschwitz of Oz and Baptised in the Blood of Millions).

• Have a link to the Savoy site as well, and try and untangle the whole bloody (very, very bloody) mess of it out for yourself.

• Also from Supervert, thanks very much had a lot of fun there recently, well look – you’re not 19 so you don’t want to read Confessions of an English Opium Eater, you don’t want to bore yourself crazy so forget Recollections of the Lakeside Poets, but look here, De Quincey’s seminal, twisted, never-in-a-bookshop essay On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts as a nice little .pdf for you to download and read and that. Loads of other Opium Tom goodness there too.

• But that’s all a bit dark and nasty, so try this. No matter what kind of a nerd this poor kid grows into, he will be able to look back on this moment and feel comfortable in the knowledge that for one wonderful day he was indeed the most excellent thing on Planet Earth: (b)

• Why are you reading this blog? Why aren’t you, right at this very moment, reading this one? Hmmmm HMMMMMM! The good old Brutal One over at Teatime Brutality just keeps on churning out some of the best comic blogging on the internet and you owe it yourself to go and have peek. The latest topic: narrative, and why chucking beginnings, middles and endings out the window can be a very good thing. All that via ongoing superhero comics, Final Crisis, Doctor Who, Big Brother, Charlie Chaplin, The Sims, Faye Weldon, Dickens, ‘n’ more.What’s that? You don’t like Doctor Who? Big Brother is boring? I don’t particularly like them either, but you know what?Shut up go read won’t regret shush (z)

Smellementary my dear