Mindless Ones

“This ride is incredible, Warren. You’re really giving me one?” Says Cyclops, through a smile that punches a hole in the fourth wall. I laugh, imagine it’s not a question, and flick back a few pages.

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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.)

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Group B in this draw is made up of mythic, godly or otherwise pre-existing fictionistic baddy types. Some good, and not so good candidios in this round, so lets crack on…

Suspect 1: SATAN!

Thanks to the comments on the last post, most of the explainful bits of this one are done already – thanks folks. As a possible, Satan, or ‘Stan’ as my keyboard keeps calling him, lines up quite nicely with the extra-textual stuff Morrison’s been dropping in interviews and stuff lately, as well as with his past form in the Batlands, so I reckon it’s not a bad bet. You know who we’re talking about here, right? We’re talking about Satan, The Devil, Old Nick, Abaddon, The Accuser, The God of This World, The Father of Lies, The Great Dragon, The Enemy, The Evil One, The Old One, The Prince That Shall Come, Lucifer, Beelzebub, The Tempter, The Proud One, The Son of Perdition. You know – this guy:

Don’t laugh! He’ll stick a toasting fork in your bum forever if you laugh! He will!

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Written by G. Willow Wilson
Drawn by M.K. Perker
Published by Vertigo

The Yellow Eye comes to G. Willow Wilson entirely fresh, having not read Cairo or any of her other work, which in one way is liberating, in that I have no preconceived notions about her output, and in another is limiting, in that some context can be an aid to critical thinking. Fortunately Air is nothing if not a generous text – there’s a lot here that’s immediately recognisable. The well worn plot holds very little in the way of surprises – a larger world, complete with conflicts in need of resolution, opens up when a mysterious stranger comes to town. What is unusual however, and, judging by the title of the book, what the Vertigo Willow axis think gives the book a distinct identity, is the setting: planes, airports, departure lounges, the sky.

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BOY + ≠

Remember when you were going to be a superhero? I sure do. I was 9 years old and Amypoodle (who happens to be my brother) had decided to take up the mantle of the Spiderman. He had a spidersense that he could recharge by warming himself on our wall-mounted radiators, and he was going to marry the Black Cat, or do other stuff with her. Stuff that made him feel weird.

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Welcome weary travellers. Come rest yourselves a while in the basement. Mind that mildewed copy of Razzle and that box of broken Transformers. Sit yourselves down between that crate of warped vinyl (can I interest anyone in some vintage James Galway? Or maybe a copy of Duran Duran’s ‘Rio’?), and that decomposing Garfield, and I’ll delight you with some recent treasures from the Beast’s Bargain Basement…

In order to overcome the trauma of shelling out £2/$3 for a new comic (but wow, ain’t it just worth it with all the time and money they’ve put into that turd-polishing computer colour!?!), I have recently returned to the blessed womb of cheap-as-fuck back issues, and it’s got to be said, found some true gems. And some shite. But it’s cheap shite, and that’s what counts.

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