Mindless Ones

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

..IS OVER!

He was spotted in Nunhead Cemetery in South London at the weekend.

We here at the Mindless Tower may not agree on everything, but one thing we’re very sure about. Brendan McCarthy is a sexy man-God, and this is going to be the most shit-hot book of next year. Bring it the fuck on.

Unearthed by Archaeologist of Tomorrow, the Bad Librarian.

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.

You’d get such a shock you’d probably jump in the ocean

A hell of day-glo plastic after the jump

Hello, Mindless reader – today we begin what will hopefully be a series of interviews with our peers in what some like to call ‘the comics blogosphere’. We begin with the excellent one-time Countdown blogger (said focus didn’t last long, fear not) Andrew Hickey, who now posts his everything at the plenarily, and accurately, entitled Thoughts on music, science, politics and comics. Mostly comics. You should read it, he write good. Onward, then!

More after the jump…

SUPERMAN SAYS “NO!” TO DRUGS

It was 2005 when I decided to paint my walls ASS pink and give up dope.

I was a smug bastard about it too.

I think the catalyst for it had something to do with a very nasty about of drug fuelled morbid self-analysis, which saw me pacing my then matchbox of a bedroom, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, for at least half an hour, in an attempt to disperse the soul-shredding anxiety and paranoia, through, if anyone should have really been spying on me via evil satellite link, embarrassing levels of exercise. Thankfully the munchies eventually kicked in, the clouds lifted and I decided enough was enough. It would be the last time I raided the fridge for Ryvita and sweetcorn relish (anything tastes good when your in the throws of, as my Mum’s friend put it, ‘the delicious eating’) at four in the morning, and it would be the last time I performed like a crazy monkey-man for the entertainment of the evil bastard demons plaguing my befuddled noggin.

After that everything shifted.

More after the jump…

I got my black shirt on.
I got my Black Gloves on.
I got my ski mask on.
This shit’s been too long.
…
Cape killer, better you than me.
Cape killer, fuck superhero brutality!
Cape killer, I know your whole league’s grievin’
(Fuck ’em.)
Cape killer, but tonight we get even.

– Cape Killer, by Ice-2 (the Ice-T of Earth-2)

A thought caught me, late last night, and it won’t let go. So let’s kick it around a bit, and see what we get out.

More after the jump…

Woah, new comics, new (importantly, much as I was surprised/appalled to find myself thoroughly enjoying Legion of Three Worlds last week. Oh, Geoff Johns, I’ve hated you for so very long and now… I don’t even know any more) Grant Morrison Final Crisis tie-in. It is the excite. I have no money.

(Which cover did you buy, Dimensioneers? Story cover is best, I find. Iconic pose cover is dull.)

More after the jump