21 July 2012


....I was not shocked to see on Drudge that people are getting death threats for not liking the new Batman part 3: Torch bat channel Trilogy, as such is the nation we have been bequeathed by GE now. If anyone would kill really for a comic book character, they'd kill for anything, but mostly, to continue the Tacitus anomaly, die for nothing. We are in the perpetual adolescence that Cicero bemoaned once he had imaged to kill off every Roman senator who dared think he was a without papers Appinine poser, but well, why bother...? I can just see Jim Lee, taking time between Da Vinci autopsies without the warmth, copses of body builders upon which he packed a strange unitard ala Cap Marvel, busily at work setting the death threats off, as without the venial and the vile, Batman might revert to mere cold war gold age Camp, and then where would we be...? I have twenty pages of a spy comic, like the sort of slop Image does, all guns and dames , Mickey Spillane without the wink--thus use less, on which when I permeated the first book to someone who asked me to do it, they were very  ver kmlept at how--vulgar it was, as if I could do anything else with prose this hard boiled, or at least poached. I might, ala What's up tiger lily, take the pages and try to nail down a narrative about them, and print it in the black and white comic I am now given a chance to do and haven't drawn a single panel yet, if that offer is still open.


I got up this morning and saw on drudge that some goon had taken assault weapons to kill a bunch of people who wanted nothing more than to go to a midnight screening of Bat fart and enjoy themselves. Ah, but the white loner-street petifile is everywhere in our Augustus less regime, and so, prodded by Bat-face as much as anything, Nolan has found the true coda to his malicious and dark and mean little bat fart than even he was capable of pulling off, in his joyless mean drunk fag Batman. As I said gaining the antipathy of a comic hack---at least publicly, an email to me was quite effusive--the idea of this batman was worse than any, in that, a millionaire beating up junkies is bad enough, but one doing it iconoclastic, is worse. Batman as American Psycho,--This Batman ended as it almost had to, and to Roger Ebert who thinks the comic book cant hold such ideas, I was writing about the military industrial complex and as hero as guardian of poor in 1978.

Again to show why I think he is the patron Saint of empire, after he was alerted to the bungling of lifers and the pushing of army lunatics, no Roman I guess could be called a chicken hawk until baptisms were mandated, when the liens were decimated at Persia, Augustus whaled like a lunatic. He looked at the circus maximus across the field of Mars then and saw a gathering of worthless welfare queens sucking the imperial wolf dry, as they were waiting to get in and watch the Wrasslin matches and the dancing girls.At this, he exploded. Cant we find a war for these dirt bags, he screamed and ordered his patricians to go across the street and shanghai as it were all those shiftless men into the now depleted and diminishing number of men willing to fight, as Rome was the first Sparta to find out if you last long enough, the barracks soon are recompiled with golden toilets. He damned these men be carded off to war, though the pigs of war wanted only those, like now, they could train into being killing machines and then cast adieu when a limb was lost if not a mind. Not here, bloated screaming Augustus said, he recalled his grandmother and other Roman girls had fought Hannibal men with kitchen knives, and just trying to stay alive might be he said, thinking back to Antony who pushed him to the limit, the only credo a soldier needs.

I think this Batman as worst of all, I think it played into the lowest aspect of Batman, so discretely art the Kirby hacks to be seen as an adult, whereas big Tony will read Captain Marvel or Stan Lee soap opera comics with glee, having put in my time at Virgil and co., and still read an occasional Cosmic amid the comics. I don't have to placate anyone. But even I draw a line at Batman who know has at least to me, become so synonymous with the vile and the vulgar and the venial that I want no part of this character who has been made a hero for psychotics, if not the calloused and closeted, now irredeemable as is a Tacitus Greek, and for similar reasons, when one thinks of it. They have mad Batman a symbol of their decline and fall, a reverse engineered Aeneas, down to having American Psycho as their standard bearer, where even the dark Gahaen Wilson tinged whimsy of Tim Burton is far too much to bear in a world where darkness as the white trash call it is ascendant. This batman from its dower and ugly beginnings caught the Zeitgeists of the Bush-Obama years, yes they are a continuum as much as anything, despite the caterwauling of over fed girls on cable television, DRONES FOR ALL--as in fact it seems that batman has when he has dank and small eared appeared--Nolan has left nothing of the mythos untouched and un scabbed, has made his dark brooding closetted presence felt before, as it was a few years ago we were hearing how the Batfart franchise was being used by those in power, just as with so much, roles reversed. That tells me, as I suspected , there is an emended sense of power to batman, a fascist without the warmth, sad and noted on the back page of Rag comics number one, which might be my next reclamation project--in saying that I liked Batman much more when we just took it for granted he was a fag, instead of him pluming on such a show about it.

The reason that the Nolan Batman always made me squeamish is that he doesn't in all his self righteous dimwittedness about dreams of all sorts, including that of the vigilante, he like his ilk and his nation does now, he makes things bleak and joyless, and reaped, --not to sound like the rest of you moralists who go mute at timers like this, or just gin up the next round of collections pallets of pockets fop that gun control which will never come-- what he sowed as much as anything, with poor movie goers in the cross fire. Now, he has that moment he had been pointing toward as much as anything, pumping his trilogy full of venial little glissandos of hatred and misery, knowing exactly tow hat audience he was pushing this crap, whatever he would admit it now or Not. With the mod batman of Adam West and his glassy eyed leering at Julie and Lee and even of barely legal; a Bat girl Yvonne Craig, there was feeling of a human being in there whose voice actually became more not less human and humane the moment the dull as dishwater Bruce Wayne, when not drilling young Dick in Greek verbs--something that would be verboten now that gays have come as stern as nuns, and whimsy is for the incarcerated, placed on a velvet purple cowl, with the dance of Carmine Infantino skin showing through, not Kevlar armour as we swat up the earth, but merely the look the feel of cotton and a sticker not a breastplate, covering his own broken heart. That is the batman still, no Pittsburgh comic, nor teen idol grown to growling adult hood can even make a dent, as this creation Nolan shall find out yet again when he now, sadly, tries to re up the cape left by a handsome man left in a wheelchair in the irony of all fantasia.

Oh, yes, we are Off to Superman now, the last train to Metropolis for his meager Scosrese like art form of throwing mud everywhere and hoping it all sticks. Nolan's Batman has received the coda he was in fact, secretly opining for, secretly looking for all along, as iconoclasts, after all, literally means the crashing and the smashing of things held sacred and only in a land where a little barbarian blooded nigger like Obama is the only black man allowed entry, it is fitting that some see that word as a honorific, as they have been at least on both sides of Obama's family, been scratching statues of Menvra in the linage since time immemorial, as they swaths everything , if not are crashing bores.

That which Nolan, effeminate enough and soft spoken, always a dead giveaway, as it were, enough so as to be a democratic senator, and thus hiding from the divinity of audience they wish to scorch and destroy from within, didn't understand was what this dower little land doesn't understand. Just because you warp yourself in obtuseness and overleaped and darkness and meanness that doesn't mean we don't see you getting up to go back to the Dennys salad bar or see you eating at the chocolate wonder fall or we don't see you press to Sonic. We see amid and through these self righteousness masks that jowls are everywhere, and god bless my man Keith Olbermann for taking Al Gore to court screeching here are my residuals, showing bless his heart, that heroes are always as displaceable or at least as temporary as anything. What this pompous little foo, Nolin, no Lorenzo Semple jr. he, l and his dark knight, as the poor mans Frank Miller--ouch!--don't get about there beloved fag in tights, sorry, riot gear--why not join the rest of the NYPD cops, Bruce, is that a certain joy must be shown as the makers of batman the television show understood. Joker as meth head, has its attachments and vagaries as they say at DC which go off in deleterious ways, which you might not like to see. And how fitting was it as Nolan dissembles and dispels before us all, the mob is a fickle mistress, Christopher, that this smiling idiocy who are up Nolan's diet of anarchy and nihilism, him of course throwing this to the plebs from a Babylon--sorry Burbank, Bel Air tower of course. I mean what is the point of devotion if it don't come with attendant privileges...?. Still, I find it prefect, that he who just assaulted the theater in make up and red wig and called himself 'the joker'. Who to a man among us idiots doesn't know that the joker has a head of and has had green hair since the grand pancake mustached Cesar Romero...? If anyone could be said to deserved this, it is Nolan that dispatcher fool who wanted so deliberately to amok Batman, of all things, relevant, and real. Well, its real now, motherfucker, its real as a tooth ache now, bitch, an your black cape black knight, black hearted black everything hero is brought to the third dimension in ways more bloody than not. And just to how great his story telling arts are, his ultimate super fan, this smirking fool laughing through the distaste and the shell casings worthy of an Image comic book,--no offense those are real shit--wears a red wig,as opposed to, not by or of the bright green of Cesar and of Carmine, showing himself not so much a joker, but as some Bozo. The killing joke is on you.

The tragedy didn't deter Andrea" Marrying well is the best revenge" Mitchell though, as before the bodies had been staked up, she wondered with some queen named Cillissa, or young mister Obermann, if perhaps this could accrue to the benefit of the Narcissus in chief. Ah, but when he came out to fain and Herculeanly show empathy, not his strong suit, his supported, who knew never to speak when Bill was talking, started chanting four more years in that over fed way of theirs, showing he is as all Caesars are trapped at his end with the venial, the scared and the bribed, not a good place to be. But when it comes to showing compassion Narcissus is at a Oviddian disadvantage, as is Romney and for similar reasons, and he ends up as so much throwing like a girl. All I know is that No body was killing people at the Avengers, ah but, bless Uncle Stan, that was true to the source material, or else, and wasn't putting on a shellac of meanness and viciousness to make itself seem adult. Batusi forever. I like the Comics reporter a lot, it least its something to read about comics that doesn't make me puke, and he seemed saddened that Batman was at the center of this as he thought it very vulgar. That is, dear Tom, my point all along...Nolan's hero, or "hero" is the bat in this coal mine, and is leading us right down the ossified path. Nolan has been pushing this shit from the get go, and nothing occurs in vacuum, as the first emails from democrats asking for gun control money--honoraria ho!--is alas already Sent.

I shall skip this blog, no not out of automation or the overly sympathic for the poor suckers led to a slaughter by Warner Bro's., who are now I read calculating how to keep this idiot from making Superman into a venial, unheroic figure--Oh Alan, what have you wrought!?, the new Kirbys make me feel sad for you more than anyone. Oh, nother shall come soon enough, as we decline and fall as other well fed and warm anarchists have hoped before us. I shall stop this blog, I saw I had more people reading me in Egypt than Italy, but more in Saturn new jersey than in Modesto California. I shall stop this until I finally finish MISTER STUPENDOUS AS AS I feel it a duty to me to do. I sing the canto it aloud as if a Catholic hymn in Latin made verboten by Savanerola and by Luther and Henry, as I am off to find the holy grail,....we are the mods we are the mods,we are we are we are the mods, we are the mods, we are the mods, we are- we are- we are- we are the mods....