So last night some fucking guy thought he was a badass and tried shitting on my comic book. Which he has no doubt, never read, and is seriously jealous of the fact that I can eat whatever I want and not be a fat pathetic loser like he is. I don't give a shit that you're getting married Poncho. You're still a fat fucking clone who's become what he thinks he has to be. You can say shit about me and my hair, the fact that I hang out with a sidekick and that my "comic book that's not going anywhere." But you're a fucking tattoo artist. That's not exactly a tough profession to get into. Hey I have a bunch of friends with ink and friends who are tattoo artists, but let's be honest, it's not rocket science, and you're not saving the fucking world either. Plus I would think, a grown, fat man who dresses up like a Ghostbuster on the weekends would shy away from trying to talk shit. Cause, the pigtails, sidekick, comic book, all a part of who I am at a fucking genetic level. You, you fucking play dress up on the weekends. You're like the goths who haven't realized that the goth movement is long dead. But on to bigger and better things...
Much in the spirit, of Tank Girl, I felt that rant was not only needed, but fucking necessary. I am after all the Hardcore Comic Book Icon, and pigtails or no pigtails, you're still a fat piece of shit who couldn't get laid if he wasn't getting married. So go and fuck yourself, while I run you over with my tank. By which I mean my thighs, which are bigger than your fat fucking head, because I work out porky. Maybe you should take that tattoo gun and ink on some abdominal muscles or something.
So the other week, I read the Apocalypse trade of Tank Girl, where Tank is being hunted by doomsday cultists. Supposedly there comes a messiah. And with it, possibly the end of the world. Tank Girl is restless, doesn't want pizza, beer or sex, and is in a malaise like state where she vegges out and watches daytime TV, the most evil of all evils.
She then leaves the confines of her home, fires off a shot in her tank and continues on till she meets up with a "standing on one leg guru" in a funky top hat who tried to get Tank Girl to join her in her one leg standingness. After which the leaders of the world, including long thought dead, Hitler and recently thought dead, Princess Diana show up. And Tank knocks Lady Di the fuck out. Not to mention Jet and Sub Girl show up to ride the rocket to Utopia. How the fuck a submarine travels in a desert is beyond me, but it's a comic book that has never made sense and that's why people love it. One of the all time most respected indie characters of ALL TIME still hasn't lost her edge, even when Hewlett and Martin aren't working on the project she stars in hits the racks. Tank learns she is pregnant, and after hitching a ride to Utopia, her and her friends party like rock stars, and then she gives birth to a half baby/half tank. Turns out Tank Girl cheated on old Booga with her tank? But she was drunk and I'm sure that makes it justifiable.
Tank Girl is the kind of comic book we need more of. Bizarre, fucked up and just plain strange shit with an edgy attitude that has always been is something we need more of in this world. I know if you're reading my reviews, you know I get tired of the run of the mill primary color boy scouts running rampant on your local comic store racks. When you're unhappy with the the regurgitated characterizations that lost their luster decades ago, take the money out of your wallet, AND BUY SOMETHING ELSE! We vote with our money. Money that is hard to come by and is very precious in today's world thanks to the powers that be. And I don't limit that to your "elected" government officials but more so directed to the corporate giants who only want your money and are currently gouging your pay check. Living pay check to pay check is tough, and we need something to raise our spirits in times like these where bullshit like a Royal Wedding is headline news, movies being Americanized from amazing International ORIGINAL versions, music that I wouldn't wipe my ass with and story lines from twenty years ago pass as brand new, edgy and best selling on the comic scene. You say, "FUCK YOU, I'm gonna read, watch, listen to what I wanna listen to." Your money and more importantly, time is much to valuable to waste on common, trivial shit like that. Show your support to the little guys in the industry who bust their asses even harder than the regular pros, cause quite often to support ourselves we work a full time job, AND then put out REAL cutting edge stories and art that gets swept under the carpet cause we don't have marketing bank like Disney and Warner Brothers backing us up.
In 2002, a monster arrived on the wrestling scene. He was a former NCAA heavyweight wrestling champion. His name, Brock Lesnar. Yeah, that Brock Lesnar, the same one who at one time was the youngest WWE World Champion at 25 years of age. Although Vince has never acknowledged Mikey Whipwreck winning the ECW World Heavyweight Championship in 1995 at less than 22 years of age from the Sandman and then defended it against the future Stone Cold Steve Austin. Anyways, after winning the WWE title, Lesnar set his sights on the most respected veteran in the locker room, The Undertaker. Pushing the "Dead Man," to his emotional limits by attacking him in front of his then pregnant wife Sara. You know the little blond who got Taker to ink her name across his throat. Beating Taker to a bloody pulp and breaking his right hand, then Smackdown general manager Stephanie McMahon, order the two behemoths to fight for the belt inside Hell in a Cell. And to up the ante, she ruled that Taker would be allowed to keep the cast on his broken hand for the match.
The match went off and there was a bucket of blood spilled, mostly from the Champion Lesnar and his manager Paul Heyman. There was nothing but utter chaos in the match, including Taker's cast being ripped off of his hand, Lesnar foiling Taker's move of "old school," and the bloodied, beleaguered champion hitting the F-5 to finish the Dead Man.
Showing posts with label alan martin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alan martin. Show all posts
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Tank Girl 3: A Hardcore Review
In case you're wondering, here's the cover to the project
This series of short stories, sees Tank Girl getting into all sorts of shenanigans with her boyfriend Booga. In the first story Tank Girl and Booga are being tracked by bounty hunters. Booga asks Tank Girl, "What plan should we go with, A, B, C, D or E?" To which Tank Girl quips, "Why plan C of course." Booga can't remember, so he states, "Remind me of what plan C entails." Tank Girl replies as only she can, "Every time you kill someone you have to do a stylish celebrity impersonation."
Shit like this is why, Tank Girl is a beloved character. She's a bonafied indie comic book icon. Possibly even more followed and loved in America than in England where she was created by Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin.
The plane trip in on a special weekend has Tank Girl blast a hole in the magnificent afro of soccer superstar Kevin Keegan so she can watch the in flight movie. Tank Girl and Booga go to visit Booga's parents where, Booga's dad, who has a strange reaction to cheese, turns into a hairy monster who breaks loose and terrorizes the surrounding countryside. It's revealed that a secret agent posing as Kevin Keegan sedates Booga's pops with a tranq gun.
There's a coupld of short stories, starring Jet Girl, where she tries to rearrange the rocks on a mountainside all the while having heavy artillery fired at her.
Noy much changes for Tank Girl as Booga becomes a messiah of sorts to a legion of brainwashed followers. In this story, the path to enlightenment is attained through gorging yourself on tons of food, without puking until you gain the light. The end sees Booga barf and Tank Girl wake up to having "a strange dream," while sleeping beside some really creepy old dude.
Hijacking a jumping castle in order to escape the massing horde of would be hired guns, Tank Girl, Booga and the operator of the jumping castle bolt from the amusement park. Don't worry, there's tons of boozing, and carousing by "the girl you want." As well as a bitchload of comedy. Yeah, I said bitchload. What the fuck's wrong with my grammar? Nothing, that's what.
For all the talking that Tank Girl does, it make be her quasi lunatic actions that get overlooked. And in keeping with the tradition of the Hardcore Review, and I say tradition very loosely, cause well, if there's anything to be gained from these reviews, it's that there is no real tradition or correlation to be made other than me using as much foul language as possible to describe how much I either loved or hated something. That an the use of wrestling analogies for the grading system. This moment stems from ECW's Anarchy Rulz 2000 where Rob Van Dam, "the Whole Fuckin' Show" attempted to regain, "the title he never lost from the man he never beat (the Sinister Minister)," in Rhino. The end of the match saw Bill Alphonso aide Van Dam, by lining up the steel chair in Rhino's face for the impending Van-Terminator. Well, Van Dam hit the vaunted Van-Terminator, but in mid flight from corner to corner, Rhino pulled diminutive manager Fonzy into the path of fire. Causing Alphonso to be crushed between the steel chair, Rhino and the oncoming 234 pound missile from Battle Creek. Van Dam was then piledriven through a table at ringside and the picked up and gored through a table propped up in the corner. FUCK!
This series of short stories, sees Tank Girl getting into all sorts of shenanigans with her boyfriend Booga. In the first story Tank Girl and Booga are being tracked by bounty hunters. Booga asks Tank Girl, "What plan should we go with, A, B, C, D or E?" To which Tank Girl quips, "Why plan C of course." Booga can't remember, so he states, "Remind me of what plan C entails." Tank Girl replies as only she can, "Every time you kill someone you have to do a stylish celebrity impersonation."
Shit like this is why, Tank Girl is a beloved character. She's a bonafied indie comic book icon. Possibly even more followed and loved in America than in England where she was created by Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin.
The plane trip in on a special weekend has Tank Girl blast a hole in the magnificent afro of soccer superstar Kevin Keegan so she can watch the in flight movie. Tank Girl and Booga go to visit Booga's parents where, Booga's dad, who has a strange reaction to cheese, turns into a hairy monster who breaks loose and terrorizes the surrounding countryside. It's revealed that a secret agent posing as Kevin Keegan sedates Booga's pops with a tranq gun.
There's a coupld of short stories, starring Jet Girl, where she tries to rearrange the rocks on a mountainside all the while having heavy artillery fired at her.
Noy much changes for Tank Girl as Booga becomes a messiah of sorts to a legion of brainwashed followers. In this story, the path to enlightenment is attained through gorging yourself on tons of food, without puking until you gain the light. The end sees Booga barf and Tank Girl wake up to having "a strange dream," while sleeping beside some really creepy old dude.
Hijacking a jumping castle in order to escape the massing horde of would be hired guns, Tank Girl, Booga and the operator of the jumping castle bolt from the amusement park. Don't worry, there's tons of boozing, and carousing by "the girl you want." As well as a bitchload of comedy. Yeah, I said bitchload. What the fuck's wrong with my grammar? Nothing, that's what.
For all the talking that Tank Girl does, it make be her quasi lunatic actions that get overlooked. And in keeping with the tradition of the Hardcore Review, and I say tradition very loosely, cause well, if there's anything to be gained from these reviews, it's that there is no real tradition or correlation to be made other than me using as much foul language as possible to describe how much I either loved or hated something. That an the use of wrestling analogies for the grading system. This moment stems from ECW's Anarchy Rulz 2000 where Rob Van Dam, "the Whole Fuckin' Show" attempted to regain, "the title he never lost from the man he never beat (the Sinister Minister)," in Rhino. The end of the match saw Bill Alphonso aide Van Dam, by lining up the steel chair in Rhino's face for the impending Van-Terminator. Well, Van Dam hit the vaunted Van-Terminator, but in mid flight from corner to corner, Rhino pulled diminutive manager Fonzy into the path of fire. Causing Alphonso to be crushed between the steel chair, Rhino and the oncoming 234 pound missile from Battle Creek. Van Dam was then piledriven through a table at ringside and the picked up and gored through a table propped up in the corner. FUCK!
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