Batman: The Dark Knight 1-4; A Hardcore Review

I was so all about this book when I first heard about it. David Finch does some great
grim and gritty. BUT and this is a big but, Finch is not, and should never be let to write another comic book story EVER! There are numerous plot holes, and just the build to finding out it was Clayface in the end of the third issue was a let down in my mind. And even the artwork was not something I really liked. For some reason it seemed to fall flat.

And in the New 52 there are a lot of things to like, but the fuck load of Batman titles is not one of them. I mean, c'mon build the foundation before you start putting up the windows and plumbing. Seriously. This really felt like it started in the middle of some story. And it was a story, I didn't get hyped about while reading, and am going to have taken off my pull list. I always say you can't really judge the comic without reading at least the first arc. Well I did, and it let me down big time. The only bigger let down, but was totally expected was Jim Lee not cutting it either. I think he should seriously be relegated to covers, and pinups and be contractually obligated to finishing a project before he gets paid. From what my dealer told me, that's pretty much what Finch was made to do, cause he had been fucking up big time while he wrote and drew his projects. They "saddled" him with the co-writer, which he honestly needs. There are a ton of artists who think they can write, and they just don't have the ability to make the characters relatable or even likable. I mean there's nothing wrong with that, unless you try and sell yourself as a writer, and you're not. That works if you're Bill O'Reilly or Newt Gingrich and you have a million zealot followers who are as stupid as you are. But not in comics folks. And it's fair for someone to say, "what have you ever done?" Well, that makes sense. I write and draw Youth in Asia, and I drew, or directed the screen play written by Venus of Necro of Fuzzyface. But back to the review, it just didn't sit well with me. It felt a lot like an early Image comic, all flash and absolutely nothing really to be in love with. If you remember the early Image stuff, it had this great artwork (for the time) and some really lackluster writing. There were a few exceptions to that.
The artwork peaked at times, but the huge hulking Two-Face who wanted to be called One Face should have been a giveaway, although it didn't. Plus the 'roided out Joker was a bit much. Joker and Two Face have always been psychological characters and not physical threats. And then you ad the White Rabbit to the mix, which reeks of The Mad Hatter, but will probably be what the wrestling industry calls a swerve. Then there was the truly unspectacular detective work of the Batman. He wasn't cerebral at the least, but seemed to be fine just bashing the shit out of whoever was in front of him. And maybe that's just me, but this seriously felt like nothing I would ever want to see in a Batman movie. Especially if Christian Bale is growling the dialog from this piece. And I shall leave it at that. Without ripping it's asshole completely open. The benefit to that is no straining when you have to poop.


Some of you may be reading this for the first time, so here goes. I grade my reviews based on moments in wrestling history. The more hardcore the moment, the more I liked it. The more old school refs to Hulk Hogan or Sid Vicious (pre 90's) probably means this is a joke and should not be taken seriously only if you also like Twilight and stupid shit like that. And the grade this gets is seriously fitting, but helped spawn a new promotion after he helped doom WCW. Batman: The Dark Knight gets, Jeff Jarrett breaking one thousand balsa wood guitars on the heads of one thousand other wrestlers, and it never raised the eyebrow of a fan. It was never extreme. It never got Jarrett the millions he felt he deserved or the respect of the fans. And god, I hope, never got him respect of the fans either. Take that Slap Nuts!

In this instalment of The Hardcore Review I will be taking on the first 4 issues of Red Lanterns of DC's The New 52, and I am NOT DRUNK. "How is that fucking possible?" you ask. Well, I'm writing this at work, and I am pretty sure this would be frowned upon. Kind of like masturbating on an airplane. Thanks a lot Bin Laden!
In my mind possibly the sleeper hit of the relaunch (and as we know I am never wrong), Red Lanterns, with the creative team of writer Peter Milligan and art by Ed Benes KICK SOME EISNER DAMN ASS! Benes is famous for his work on Gen 13 and his tour of Birds of Prey which was written by Gail Simone. My first exposure to Milligan was "Girl" back in the mid 90's from Vertigo/Veritie along with equally British artist Duncan Fegredo. Milligan would later go on to write at least one mini series of Tank Girl. The Red Lanterns were no doubt the most popular corps in the Blackest Night storyline from last year. They also inspired in the first series of Blackest Night figures, an Atrocitus that immediately drew large money in the secondary market. In fact, I had one on order from my dealer Charlie Harris, who graciously kept the figure for me, in spite of myself not coming into the shop for some time. Charlie even told me that it was the last Atrocitus in the shop and he had been offered $50 for it. I told him, I would not have begrudged him if had sold it for that size of a profit. But Atrocitus proudly hangs on my wall, along with Earth 2 Superman, Red Lantern Mera with Dex Starr and Yellow Lantern Arkillo. The Blackest Night series of figures IS some of the most detailed and best looking figures I have seen. But I digest, onto the book.
The artwork is gracious, although somewhat sparse at times. It reminds me of early Image art, with the lack of backgrounds in quite a few of the panels. And at some points it feels that some poses and faces are a bit rushed. But there is an amazing amount of detail in each of the characters. And Benes does a great job differntiating the emotions characters express as their non rage filled earlier selves (such as Bleez and Skallox). But Milligan's word smithing is nothing short of amazing. His choice of vocabulary has me transfixed in ways I have not felt in some time. Books that are this well crafted are the reason I love this industry. DC did an amazing job of employing some of the best teams to make sure the relaunch was successful. I have heard from one or two people who claim Red Lanterns will probably be the first of the New 52 cancelled. I don't see how it could, as it's on time (Jim Lee) and Milligan and Benes are probably the best creative team of the relaunch. Atrocitus commands the Red Lantern Corps, all while holding constant conversations with a dead Krona the dirty bastar who killed all of Atrocitus' people (whatever fucking species they're supposed to be). For some reason, Atrocitus feels at peace talking with the corpse of his nemesis. Atrocitus has become a new type of vengeance that is not a green cape wearing ghost nor a flame headed motorcycle riding asshole portrayed by Nic (Copolla) Cage in an shitty movie that getting a fucking sequel. Good call Hollywood! He feeds on the rage felt by others, and acts upon it accordingly. By the second issue, Atrocitus has waged war on the universe and it's inhabitants for their destructive ways. For some strange reason, most of these attacks take place on Earth (the fuck you say).
In issue 3 Atrocitus (fuck I wish I had alternate names to call him) feels he needs a second in command to help keep the motley and ill tempered group in line. He choses Bleez, who's origin is revealed as Atrocitus throws her into the Blood Ocean. The Blood Ocean inhances her intellect but during this, Bleez is forced to relive her beginings and tortured past. She survives, but as she reveals, just barely. Atrocitus and Bleez visit her assailants and deliver rage filled punishment upon the two who claimed to be victims of Bleez's beauty. The two claimed they had no choice in their efforts to have her killed. For some reason they weren't white (c'mon it makes sense if you think about it).

After helping Bleez gain vengeance on her "suitors" (read the story), Atrocitus gives chase to Skallox. Skallox is present during a potential coup meeting held by Bleez, and Atrocitus begins to get paranoid. Unable to make sense of the mashed potatoes that make up Skallox's rage filled mind, Atrocitus tosses the horned Red Lantern into the Blood Ocean. Here we witness Skallox's origin, which I can only assume will continue into issue 5. Finishing the issue has me salivating for the next. It also has me wishing DC did the blank sketch-able variants the Marvel is doing. I not only love the Red Lanterns, but a plethora of DC characters as well.
The grade for this series, is the construct known as The Gangstas. Originally from Smokey Mountain Wrestling, New Jack and Mustafa moved to ECW in 1995, and began destroying tag teams. The combination of Mustafa's power and more technical skills, and New Jack's insane penchant for violence, his ability on the mic and willingness to "dive" from any height (as long as he got paid), made The Gangstas a force that battled with every tag team from the Public Enemy, The Eliminators all the way to the Dudley's. Getting color with almost every single match the wrestled in ECW this one was one of the worst, or best depending on how you think. "The Mass Transit Incident" (which almost made sure the 1997 pay per view Barley Legal didn't happen) involved a minor named Eric Kulas who doctored his papers to be able to wrestle in the place of Axl Rotten who wasn't able to make the event. A lot of wrestlers in the locker room state that Kulas, who was billed as Mass Transit, who not one one mother fucker had heard of, was telling The Gangstas who he was going to be in the match. Later, according to New Jack, Kulas asked him to blade him, as he did not know how. This fucking kid was stupid as he was fat (you'll find out why it's in past tense). During the match, Jack took his trusty instument, which he said was a surgical scalpel fixed to a thin piece of wood, and cut Mass Transit all the way across the forehead, causing Kulas to bleed profusely and have his father sue ECW. According to Kid Kash, Jack and Mustafa had to split right after. Jack was acquited of all charges. This was possibly due to the *fact* (according to New Jack) that Paul Heyman testified at his trial that Kulas had called Jerome "New Jack" Young, "nigger." And I didn't make any of that shit up.

Jingle Belle Gift Wrapped; A Hardcore Review

In the latest one shot installment of Paul Dini's series about Santa's rebellious teenage daughter, her old Uncle Krampus, the imp who punishes the naughty children has become disillusioned with how Claus is running shit now. Apparently, all the little children of the world, who are no doubt all white just as this book claims, are all just passed off as nice and get presents from the jolly fat man. Holy Christmas it's just like America's public school system... NOBODY EVER FAILS! We just bump the little 'tards up to a 61% for effort and viola YOU PASS! That's a total lie, not all children in America's public school system are white. But while Krampus is pissed, Jingle or Jing to her witch friend has straight up had it. "But why?" you ask. That's a good fuckin' question. And since I have read the book, I am just the pigtailed munkey to answer that....
You see, after reliving the glory days of yore, when he was tag teaming with Kris (I think that's how you spell his name), Mrs. Claus, who is insanely hot for a very cartoonish character who is no doubt eons old, calls. For the only thing Krampus is qualified to do, settle a dispute. In this corner, weighing in at whatever the hell it said on the scale this morning. He is, Eisner knows how old and he stands shorter than he is wide...... the only man that's qualified to break into all your homes, steal food and leave sweat shop built gifts for you and you won't sue (cause he's white)....... SANTA CLAUS! And in this corner, probably up to no good while she's escaped from the frigid north (and not a "turkey's done" joke to be found). The bleached blond, pixie cut nymph...... JINGLE BELLE! Somebody's lying in this book and you guessed it, it's the old white guy who's never been wrong and apparently been called a saint. So, a while back, like almost last year, Jingle created a new doll for the now crowd of misanthrope, skinny jeans, striped shirt and scarf wearing, I stole a bunch of money from mom's purse to be able to afford this bottle of hair dye, and I hang out at ironically hip coffee houses with my friends and write shitty poetry as I stare at my boyfriend who's dressed just like me but wearing fake horn rimmed glassed that cost more than his P.O.S car. Seriously, it was a Bratz doll with attitude. Doesn't the Bratz doll already have attitude. I mean she was modeled after my Chicana raza mujeres. Ok, so old Santa, tells Jingle (god that's a great title but a fucking stupid name for a person) that the world isn't ready for this kind of toy.
I would just like to point out that while I write this review I am downing cans of Pabst Blue Ribbons and listening to SModcast episode 135: "Mos Chuisle").
So they call the evil goat guy to settle stuff. And he does by grounding them both. And now you don't need to read this book. You know unless you want to see the three panels of Jingle Belle in a striped bikini. The art is a lot of fun. And the writing is clever, at points. But this is nothing to write home about. I mean the bikini panels would have been so much better if when Claus yanks Jing from the sandy beach she was wearing a thong and he had given her a X Mas wedgie, but I mean that's just me and probably why I won't ever get to write or draw a mainstream comic unless someone is standing over me with a shotgun. But it would put asses in the seats.
So for this moment, I pick a moment, that's not really hardcore, but may have been shocking to some. The year was 1999. The promotion was ECW. And it pains me to say there was something in ECW that wasn't hardcore, but there were some, here and there. It was the PPV Guilty as Charged, and former heel referee Jeff Jones came out the ring wearing a judge's robe. With him in the middle of the ring stood, possibly the craziest mother fucker ever to wrestle in ECW, Kronus (formerly of the Eliminators with Perry Saturn). "Judge" Jeff Jones finds Kronus guilty of, fuck if I know... but he points his gavel (yeah he's carrying around a gavel, and not even a hilarious over sized gavel) towards the entrance way and out comes.... SID! As in Sid Vicous. As in Sid Justice. As in Sycho Sid!... and what happens when a near seven foot tall, greased up man with a combination Jew 'fro/mullet enters the ring? He powerbombs the shit out of everyone! And I do mean everyone... I mean yeah, monster enters the ring and destroys everyone. I get it. But seriously.... Sid Eudy? Seriously? The guy's almost older than Hogan and he's already made the grade for a previous review when he tried missle drop kicking Scott Steiner and broke his fucking leg! Or the time he made the review for his amazingly "realistic" punches. The guy does one thing right in his whole career, and it's possibly the lamest Goldberg ripoff angle in all of wrestling. Sorry Paul Heyman, but this time, Sid ain't "the man."

Comics: The Three Stooges; A Hardcore Review

It's tough to write a conclusive comic book story arc in six issues. So I can't imagine how difficult it must be to capture the life of a comedic legend, who's career spanned decades in just 24 pages, let alone FIVE. But that's what this book and it's creative team managed to do. And I know what you're thinking, "it says Three Stooges, not five." And you are so right, and wrong at the same time. Today the Hardcore Review is tackling three (five) lummoxes that were a comedy dynamo, Bluewater's Comics: The Three Stooges, which is the third issue of the Comics biographical series written by Jaymes Reed and drawn by issue one's Apriyadi Kusbiantoro. And recently, I have become a fan of the art of the documentary.
Reed again somehow does what might seem the impossible, to make people care about our history. And in a day and time when it's so fucking relevant to know about our past, we as a species, called Americans, seem to fall ever short. When we have a former comic book god like Frank Miller, bashing the Occupy Wallstreet movement, and even the Republican party silently gagging everytime Mitt Romney hits their tax payer funded flat screen televisions, we need to remember what it was to laugh. And I remember, like all of you, busting my sister on the head with a ferris wheel fist, or torquing someone's nose with a pair of pliers, that there was a comedy troupe that preceeded Kids in the Hall and Saturday Night Live. History my friends. And I am happy to report that I learned something. I know, learned something from comics. The fuck did I learn from comics other than Miller's illustrious word smitherie of, "I'm the goddamn Batman?" But I did. I found out a few things actually. First is Curly was NOT an original Three Stooge. That was Shemp. And another fancy tidbit, Shemp, Curly and Moe were brothers.
There was like only 2 word balloons in the entire book. Which, much like issue one about George Carlin was really not all that funny. The Stooges were born at the turn of the twentieth century. And it wasn't until after the Great Depression where they made their mark on not just the comedy world, but the entertainment world at large. And before when I said there were actually five Three Stooges, there were factually six, although Joe Besser, who was only known on screen as "Joe" was a very short lived career as a Stooge.
You know, the only complaint I think I even have about this book would be, I think I might have liked it even better in black and white. But that's only cause that's how I remember the Three Stooges. Well that and a better grad on my Reid Park Zoo project in design school. I did a Three Stooges parody piece that paraded the "Three Simians," with three different types of apes, with the classic Moe, Larry and Curly haircuts. Complete with the old school Three Stooges font and everything. But that's got nothing to do with Reed and Kusbiantoro's fine work here.
As some of you may know, and I'm seriously getting kinda fucking tired of reminding you, I don't review like some fat schlub from Chicago, or some pansy assed douchebag from some gossip rag piece of shit that spawned John Tesh. I don't even used a letter system, you know, like most of you got in remedial English. According to a friend, I am using "the lowest common denominator," but then again, according to me, I hate KISS and all they stand for. So here I go with my grade. The moment was something, nobody was ready for, and got somebody in a lot of trouble with his boss. In 1994, Mick Foley as Cactus Jack wrestled for WCW. When they established a shortlived relationship with the upstart ECW, Cactus wrestled Sabu in a dream match. Cactus lost, but not without delivering one of the most violent sounding chair shots I've ever heard, with a plastic fucking chair. And then afterward, Cactus delivered one of his most poignant promos ever, when he spit on the WCW World Tag Team title belt. This pissed off his boss, WOOOOOO, the man who would later call Foley nothing more than "a glorified stuntman," Ric Flair.

Showcase Presents Booster Gold vol. 1; A Hardcore Review

What the fuck can I say about this mother fucker? 80's cheese? sure. But with some great writing and sweet art. Booster Gold is Michael Carter from the 25th Century. A former All-Everything quarterback for Gotham University, Booster had it all, potentially. But Booster lived most of his life in poverty, as his father had gambled away the family's life savings and then left afterward. Carter's mom and sister were all he had, and they lived in the ghetto. His only way out, make the big time through professional football. And he would have, if he could have just waited till he left school for the pros. But Michael's mother's health was failing, and without an operation, a very costly operation done in zero gravity, she was a goner. So Booster took on with the organized crime racket and started shaving points. He vowed never to throw a game, just make things work for those guys with crooked noses. And he got busted. Guess what kids, crime doesn't pay. Unless you're an "elected" official. Cause, then it pays up the ass. Thrown out of school and his professional status pretty much less than zero, Carter left home and took up a menial job as a night watchman of the Metropolis History Museum. With security bot, Skeets at his side, Booster recognized and incredible opportunity, steal some relics and travel back in time to become a super hero. A super hero with mega endorsement deals and movie contracts. He reprogrammed Skeets and did the deed.
Showcase Presents Booster Gold volume one is over 600 pages of "are you fucking kidding me?" But it's awesome. It didn't come highly recommended by my comic book dealer, as he reads everything that isn't television or movie related that comes into his shop (he did speak highly of Ambush Bug volume 1 though), but I decided to take a chance. I mean 600 plus pages for under twenty bucks is pretty fucking sweet. Especially if I enjoy the fuck out of it. AND I DID! For the most part Booster Gold was written with pencils by Dan "The Death of Superman" Jurgens and mostly having been inked by Mike DeCarlo, this tomb was amazing. So much better than volume one of Showcase Presents Green Lantern. Probably because it took place in the seriously fucked up 1980's instead of the seriously whacked out 1950's where every woman was supposed to be June Fucking Cleaver, but for some reason had a hardon for being married, even when they were an heiress to a multi-million dollar aircraft company (stupid bitch). i had fun the whole way through this ride. Jurgens knows how to craft a compelling story about an extremely vapid and superficial character. And some of the plot twists... totally fucked up.
The best part of the book had to be, straight man Skeets. Providing his knowledge of the verbal vernacular of the times to the woahfully wordless-smith Gold was hilarious. Correcting all of his misuses of 80's slang was hilarious. And it seriously rocked cause in my head I was hearing the voice of Skeets from the Justice League Unlimited cartoon who was voiced by Billy West (Futurama) while I read. And even though I was not reading comics in the 80's, this book definitely encompassed the idea of the 80's. Especially if you compare it to Brett Easton Ellis' American Psycho. There was a lot of materialism involved. Money grubbing and fame seeking, Booster Gold provided laughs, cheers, boos and even some sympathy along the way. His story reads like that of so many inner city youth who's only possible escape from poverty are sports, or illegal means. And in Gold's case, it turned out to be a little of both.
Booster Gold volume one had guest stars galore. The Legion of Superheroes made an appearance as Booster Gold tried to save the president from an assassination attempt. The Teen Titans, or at least Donna Troy showed up for like one fucking panel. Batman, Robin, Superman and the mid 80's incarnation of the Justice League showed up, which included Martian Manhunter, Blue Beetle, Rocket Red, a seriously 80's version of Black Canary and Guy Gardner, with amnesia. But it could have not had any of these other characters, and just included perrenial mort, Rainbow Raider, which was an awesome story by the way and an android Booster, which wouldn't have worked without Superman, and the Dimension X crew.
Honestly I do not know what the fuck I was expecting from this book, but I got more than I bargained for and I now include Booster Gold and Skeets among my favorite characters. Gold sought to be a super hero for all the wrong reasons, fame and money. But he ended up being a super hero none the less. With that, I give Showcase Presents Booster Gold volume 1 a train wreck of a debut as its grade; as it also included his first appearance and origin stories. In 1993, in ECW a wrestler debuted who was so unorthodox that the wrestling world was forever changed. "The most homicidal, suicidal, genocidal maniac known to man" appeared in the ECW Arena. Bound to a dolly with a chain, with his mouth covered like Hannibal Lecter, Sabu emerged. Throwing chairs and attacking fans, the man who was considered revolutionary among his peers, but never saw the coin he deserved, made his mark on American soil. Sabu went head to head with the relatively new wrestler, The Tazmaniac (Taz) in a match that saw slingshot leg drops, suicide dive planchas and Asai Moonsaults. In his ECW debut, under the guidance of manager hunter Q. Robins III and with his handler, 911, Sabu defeated Taz, the man he would eventually win the ECW tag team titles with, and main even the very first ECW pay per view against. "The human highlight reel of professional wrestling," and whirling dervish of the squared circle cemented his place in the annals of professional wrestling.

Zombie Tramp vol. 1; A Hardcore Review

Recently, I ordered Dan Mendoza's Zombie Tramp volume one from Super Real Graphics. I follow Dan on DeviantArt and have been admiring his pics of the Zombie Tramp, Janey. It's actually a light hearted tale about Hollywood's best call girl, Janey. Her Madame, gets blackmailed by a crooked cop and is forced to send Janey to the cop's home. Janey gets forced into the basement where the crooked cop's son is waiting, and hungry. For some reason, the cop's son is a zombie and he takes a chunk out of Janey's supple bod. Afterward, Janey dies.... and re-emerges, with the help of the equally busty Zombie Voodoo Priestess, Xula as The Zombie Tramp, the hottest, not completely clothed, large breasted zombie EVER!
This book is fucking great. It's done mostly in black and white, with splashes of color, mostly red. But damn it's fucking great. Who doesn't love some scantily clad goodness with extra large jublies all around. And there is nudity. I was fucking waiting for that through the whole book. And Dan finally delivered at the very end of the book. Zombie or not, there's a ton of comic book fans, male and female who would risk their humanity for a piece of that ass. And Mendoza is working feverishly on volume two. More ultra large zombie titties, bouncing around as only saline can deliver.
Zombie Tramp reads, much like a late 80's early 90's really low rent zombie flicks. B-Horror is one of the all time best genres of movies ever. I mean look at the great things we've gotten from it: Bruce Campbell, a naked as fuck Linnea Quigley, Sam Raimi, Liam Neeson, Bruce Campbell's chin and so much more. And this whole concept is as fun and fucked as anything could possibly be.
Zombies have become a staple of pop culture. Here in Tucson, we have Zombie Walk, and there's a Zombie Ball, at Phoenix Con we get Zombie Prom and the Zombie Beauty Pageant. Zombies have taken the world by storm, something piss poor vampires never totally could. And Stephanie Meyer, if you ever think to write a story about sparkling zombies, I will find you and sing annoying songs at the top of my lungs until your ears bleed.
Now for the grade. As you may or may not know, I don't use some sort of lame thumbs up my ass, a piss poor letter or number grade. No, this is the mother fucking, original HARDCORE REVIEW. I only grade with hardcore moments in wrestling history. And this is not an exception to that rule. It was the very first episode of ECW on Sci-Fi, produced by the WWE. And I know, you're thinking nothing involving WWE's ECW was hardcore. But I hit you in the face with a steel chair with thumb tacks super glues to it. Listen up spunky, cause here we go. It's actually two moments from that initial show. The first being Paul Heyman's emergence and presentation of the new ECW World Heavyweight Championship belt to Rob Van Dam, who had just won the WWE Championship from John Cena at ECW's One Night Stand two nights before. When Heyman gives the belt to RVD, RVD says he's honored to have the belt he fought for in ECW for so many years. But he wants to keep the WWE Championship too. The quote is awesome, "Look, it spins!" God I loved that shit! The second part, was when a fucking zombie came out of the walkway and tried to cut a moaning promo in the middle of the ring. The crowd honestly didn't know what to think, when all of a sudden (not on television tho) "Enter Sandman" hits the PA system and the crowd fucking lost it. Sandman walks he way down to the ring, shotgunning beers the entire way. Stumbles over the barricade, slides into the ring and canes the holy fuck out of the zombie. They rigged the zombies shirt full of sawdust, so every time he got nailed, dust flew into the air and the crowd cheered as wrestling's Hardcore Icon beat the shit out of some poor sonofabitch who is probably a star now under Vince McMahon's infinite wisdom. Hope you enjoyed this review as much I enjoyed drinking while writing it.

We3; A Hardcore Review

I finally just picked up Grant Morrison and Frank Quietly's We3. And it was worth the price of the deluxe edition hardcover graphic novel. Morrison's writing is as good as it's ever been in this tale of a government/military project to make animals into soldiers. Quietly's art style has never been better. And the extras show the massive amount of work that went into this insane project. Some people don't like the extras, the behind the scenes type stuff that artists and writers decide to add to the works. It's like a great movie on dvd or Bluray, with commentary and deleted scenes. We3 had everything you could want in an epic non-superhero story. This sci-fi story is up there with some of the greats, and has lurked its way onto my top five. Not an easy feat to accomplish.
Morrison is a sick sick man, with a penchant for writing some of the best fucking comics out there. Sure back in the early 2000's he supposedly retired after accusing the Waschowski brothers of stealing his idea for the Matrix. And even though, there were others who claimed the same thing, I am glad the Scottish scribe decided to come back to the table that fed him.
Quietly's artwork has always been amazing, but with this graphic novel, he pushes himself to the limits in his abilities. Quietly is a badass when it comes to rendering the emotions of the animals who are stolen from their homes and forced into a life of the service of a depraved military. Some, and reiterate, some of Quietly's humans look alike in their facial features. But the technology of the armor that We3 wear, and the animals themselves are amazingly rendered. When you look at the extras, Quietly worked himself to the utmost limits. The escape sequence, the cat fight sequence, and the CCTV pages were astounding. And with the extras you can see exactly how much time and work went into the project. I give Quietly the utmost kudos and mad props for his storytelling abilities. It is what all artists should aspire to.
It's interesting, since I recently reviewed Action Comics #1, where Morrison was accused of being anti-Christian when Supes uttered a gutteral moan that some moronic right wing, god fearing asshole called for a boycott. Morrison weaved a solid tale that is a super quick read, but with all of Quietly's quality linework and the amazing digital inks and colors make you want to take you sweet fucking time making your way through this book. I cannot stress enough, just how much I enjoyed We3. I am an animal lover, and I own three small dogs. So watching the military adaptation about these animals being experimented on was really tough on me. But hearing them talk to each other and the way they communicated in "text" speak was pretty hilarious.
The battle sequences were majestic in scope and Quietly does an amazing job with those sequences. His attention to detail is nothing short of top quality. This book is so fucking amazing that mere words cannot do it justice. You have to see and read it to believe it. So amazing in fact that it's notched its way into my top five favorite comic book stories of all time with the likes of Teenagers from Mars and Bone. That's pretty high praise fellas.
Morrison and Quietly are the perfect creative team. And in keeping with the tradition of great teams I am grading this with one with my favorite tag team of all time, ECW's The Eliminators. John Kronus and Perry Saturn took on all comers in their battles for the World Tag Team Titles. And they had some legendary matches. One of the most remembered matches took place in the vaunted ECW Arena where The Eliminators sought to take on the best in the world, when they fought the incomparable, and greatest American tag team ever to wrestle in Japan, Terry "Bam Bam" Gordy and "Doctor Death" Steve Williams. The match itself wasn't anything spectacular. It was a great match, with all four wrestlers putting out max effort, but it was the finale that put it over the top, and landed Saturn and Gordy in the hospital. For later that night, Tommy Dreamer would meet Brian Lee in the finale to their monster feud in a scaffold match.... Saturn, took the opportunity to use the scaffold to drop the monster elbow from the rafter of the ECW Arena. The elbow hit Gordy square and left both men needing paramedic assistance to get out of the ring.

Action Comics #1: A Hardcore Review

I haven't reviewed anything as of late, due to being busy with the Fuzzyface campaign. But I am back and will be dropping reviews at a better rate than I have been. I just read Action Comics yesterday right as the rain hit this much needed city. I didn't pick it up cause of hyper or cause It was a number one or part of the relaunch. I've actually never read all that many Superman comics, surprisingly. But there was a story leaked onto Bleeding Cool that had me interested. Apparently a comic book retailer in North Carolina, cause it's never a state where people outnumber rednecks, has begun a boycotting of all things written by Grant Morrison. His reasoning? During a battle scene with tanks, a young Superman lets out an onomonopia in the form of two letters, GD. Now, this clever man, I can only assume it was a man, cause I've never met a woman who was this quick to jump to a religious conclusion, is boycotting Grant Morrison cause in his words "this is a slap in the face to Christians everywhere." I dunno, I get hit in the stomach by a fucking tank and I'm gonna be letting out a lot more than a small sound that is to most people just a sound. I'll be cursing the fucking heavens and blasting god for allowing people like this to exist. Now let me be clear, I am an Atheist. Why? Cause shit like this is fucking stupid. You don't see Atheists calling for boycotts of stuff that merely mentions belief or some sort of deity. There are those of us who won't stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, or for school prayer because of the mention of god being involved. Not Christians, and it only seems to be Christians, never Jews, or Muslims or even Buddhists seem to give a shit about someone not wanting to stand. Cause it's a choice. Religion has been used to intimidate and obliterate people from the face of the Earth for a belief. Not concrete proof, but belief. That just seems more ignorant that spiritual to me, and I'M AN ATHEIST!
So anyway, back to the comic at large. This was my first issue of any of the new 52 from DC Comics. And I have to say it did not disappoint. Grant Morrison wrote a fantastic first tale of young big blue, who with Rags Morales doing the art looks like he's young enough to be a freshman in college. This book was put together from front to back cover and I can honestly say that reading Action #1 I have not been this excited for comics since my characters Nash and Kyle appeared in the pages of Jimmie Robinson's Bomb Queen a few years ago. I have loaded my pull list with various new DC stuff, including Deathstroke, cause he's fucking Deathstroke, Red Lanterns, Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Batman and Robin and Nightwing. Based on the creative teams working on the titles. But mostly the writing. As visual as I am, it's the writing that is getting my goat lately. I want to learn to be a better writer, so why not read the best in the industry right now, and right now, they're all at DC headquarters.
This book kicked all kinds of ass, and if it pissed off some right wing religious nazi at the same time, even better. Cause you're in the wrong business pal. If you wanted to see oppression and not let people have free speech, go to Capitol Hill for the next year. I'm not a big fan of retconning stuff. I mean if you don't want to use a part of a character's history, just don't. But to redo the entire thing just to start clean seems kind of strange. I mean we as people don't get to do that, even though a lot of us would like to. Keep the flaws. The bad stories, the cheesey gimmicks, the universe changing crossovers. That's what makes these characters a bit more able to be related to. Even though, the current story idea have them set at new beginnings where they are younger, going to make more mistakes and a bit more human. I am super excited to have read my first Supes comic in years. It made all sorts of sense and even reintroduced a Lex Luthor, who's reasons for wanting to destroy Superman in the past never surfaced in my mind, but lets it be known that this could be the undoing of the human species if Supes is let to roam free. And IT MADE SENSE! Also look for a younger Jimmie Olsen and a twenty something Lois Lane, who has always been my idea of a strong woman who gets the job done.
Action Comics #1 will, like every other project being reviewed be graded on hardcore moments in wrestling history. This harkens back to Wrestlemania 18. Icon versus Icon. Hogan versus the Rock. And this was an extremely amazing match. Hogan had a great match, probably cause he was partnered up with the Rock who is one of the best ever. But this match drained the crowd and had multiple match stopping chants of "Rocky" and "Hogan." It was everything you want from a dream match. And it worked on so many levels. Now, I'm not a fan of giving Hogan any kind of credit when it comes to memorable moments in wrestling history, but this match delivered. Finishing with a huge People's Elbow, Rock took out the legend and then showed respect to Hogan and the fans by letting the old man pose a few more times. Even I got chills, and I fucking hate Hogan.

Water Baby: A Hardcore Review

Written and drawn by Ross Campbell the same guy who does the amazing book, Wet Moon, for Minx. Minx was DC's attempt at attracting more female readers by tapping some of the industries best independent creators for a handful of really fucking awesome digest sized books.
Water Baby is the story of a young surfer who during a set gets attacked by a shark and loses her leg as a result. The story jumps forward several months where Brody is refusing to wear her prosthetic leg and now has a roommate in her best friend Louisa who has been tapped with the job of watching after Brody during this difficult time in her life. Brody is a tattooed, pierced tomboy hottie. Louisa is a little more laid back and feminine. Brody has dreams about shark attacks that become reminiscent of a Salvidor Dahli painting is it's obscurity and abstractness.
Brody's ex, Jake shows up one day saying her mom said he could stay with the duo. Brody's been trying to get over Jake, who never even wrote or stopped by during Brody's rehab or hospital stay. The next several weeks, that was only supposed to last a few days, Jake spends on the couch vegging out and not getting a job, eating all the ice cream sandwiches. This reminded me of my mom's second husband, who got fired from his job shortly after the wedding and then refused to get another, eating all the ice cream sandwiches and throwing away my stuffed animals. He was a 'Nam vet who had a drug habit. Mom didn't let that last too long tho. Brody on the other hand let's Jake just loaf and not do shit. The tool even brings some piece of jail bate to the house and almost gets laid before being caught by Brody and Louisa. Jake gets wasted one night, throwing up all over the couch and living room. To which Brody calls enough, steals her mom's car and her, Louisa and Jake are off the New York to drop Jake off at his folks'.
The road trip yields some unplanned results, including the car being stolen and Jake picking up on some other piece of jail bate at a diner. The girl ends up riding with the trio. Finally reaching their destination, Jake is dropped off and Louisa and Brody begin their long journey back to Florida where it all began.
This book had a lot of the great qualities that made me like Wet Moon, Campbell's other solo book series. But there was some stuff I didn't care for. Ross does an amazing job with facial expressions. However his lack of diversity when rendering males or seriously butch chicks is a bit frustrating. However both Brody and Louisa were wholly original in their appearances. Especially with all the ink Brody sports. Water Baby is an awesome ride, with some unforgettable characters, with the exception of Jake. But there's always got to be in order to make you love the other characters even more than you would if all the characters were equally cool.
The book fires on seven of eight cylinders. And for sheer purposes of this review, as it pertains to hardcore moments in wrestling history, I take you back to 2001. Shortly after both ECW and WCW had gone out of business. One night on Raw, during a WWF vs. WCW match Kane and Jericho took on the Awesome Mike Awesome and Lance Storm. During the match two guys jump the railing and with Storm and Awesome take out Jericho and Kane. The two are revealed to be Rob Van Dam and Tommy Dreamer. To the rescue of the WWF superstars runs out the B team of the WWF. They face off with Kane and Y2J against the four invaders. However you realize something is off. And then it hits you. The remaining six guys are the Dudley Boys, Rhino, Raven, Taz and Justin Credible. All ECW guys. The brawl starts as the group of ten begins destroying Jericho and Kane. All topped by Paul Heyman on color saying, "I want you to remember this moment." Takes off his headset and climbs into the ring proclaiming the ECW is invading.

Elephantmen vol. 1; A Hardcore Review

"Part Blade Runner... part We3... completely AWESOME!" In all honesty, this is not a fair comparison, cause I have yet to read We3. But this book was completely fucking amazing.
Look, I know like many of you, the amazing lettering the Richard Starkings and Comic Craft have done in the past decade or more of comics. And I also know that Starkings began the Hip Flask mini stories as a way to promote Comic Craft's superb abilities. But was anyone expecting the full on dynamic characters, the sweet lineup of artists who would handle the art chores and the flat out amazing story that would come of it? Elephantmen is a superior comic on so many levels. The concept is hundreds of years in the future, a geneticist named Dorctor Kazushi Nikken, under the auspices of MAPPO splices animal genes and then places the embryos into host human females. The result was humanoid hippos, alligators, rhinos and more, all created for the sole purpose of war. MAPPO controlled every aspect of the creature's lives, including education, training and making the creatures including Hip Flask and Ebony completely dependent on them.
The creatures attempts at acclimating to society after their trials are staggering. For the most part, the humans reject them. So much so that like in our country, they have enacted laws to stop people from marrying the mutant creatures. That is until a young woman named Sahara, who's own mother was kidnapped from an African village and forced into being a host for Doctor Nikken's insane experiment, falls in love with an Elephantman named Obadiah. Obadiah is probably, at least in volume one, the most powerful of the Elephantmen, and seems to be involved with some shady customers. The engagement of Obadiah and Sahara made national news, prompting bigotry and outrage from some people, sort of like same sex marriages seem to do the same now.
Doctor Nikken acted as if he were god, under the hood of an evil multinational corporation. The voice heard by the young animal/human hybrids was always Nikken's. Warning them that they were created as inferior to humans, but MAPPO made them stronger. MAPPO sent these Elephantmen out on warpaths, destroying cities and maiming and massacring people. It's no wonder that people feared these behemoths.
In all, like with groups of people who are almost wholly distrusted by society today, not all of the Elephantmen are bad, or have bad intentions. Most of them just want to exist somewhat unnoticed by the masses. Something that is very hard to do when you're nine feet tall with gray skin and a trunk.
Elephantmen was something I picked up after meeting Richard Starkings at last year's San Diego Comic Con. I got a free copy of issue one, which had some amazing artwork, including the superstar cover art. Took pics of the Sky Cab cutie, complete with window pane top. And watched a friend pick up all three collected hardcover volumes. It took me almost a year, but I finally got my own volume one at Charlies Comics right here in Tucson. The money I spent on it was more than worth it. A massive phone book sized compilation of the first seven issues, plus issue 0 AND all of the covers; back stories, sketches and more. Elephantmen is an excellent read and a great play on current events and how they might unfold. I give this awesome book something very suitable in the annals of wrestling history... The WWF's annual tournament event that culminated with the June pay per view King of the Ring. The two combatants who made it to the finals were the staunch veteran, Jake "The Snake" Roberts and the young, brash upstart who was told just a year earlier that he would never make it past mid card status and couldn't make a career out of wearing black trunks and black boots to the ring, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin. Roberts had a busted up set of ribs, and Austin had just returned from the hospital after getting his lip stitched shut caused in a previous match that night. Immediately Austin went for the ribs with such gusto that it caused then Commissioner Gorilla Monsoon to break up the fracas just long enough for Roberts to gain the upper hand. But in true "Rattlesnake" style Austin sent the veteran crumbling to the mat with a Stone Cold Stunner. Following the match came possibly the most famous words ever uttered in a promo. As a broken Jake Roberts was helped back to the locker room, Austin began running his mouth in what would be the first of many amazing Stone Cold promos in the WWF/E. "You thump your bible. You talk about your Psalms. You talk about John 3:16. Well Austin 3:16 says, 'I just whipped your ass!"

Comics: George Carlin; A Hardcore Review

Holy Shit! A review of a project that has not yet been printed. I know. I usually don't do such things. However, due to the fact that nobody knows who I am, much like Spider-Man, I don't often have the chance to review such preprint projects. I am proud to bring you my first such review. And it is a comic book biography of my favorite stand up comedian, George "Seven Words" Carlin. Now, I gotta be honest. This is the first non-porn related comic bio I have read. EVER! I'm not a big fan of biography comics. But I took an interest in this one, cause I know the writer and talk with him quite frequently online. This book is being published by Bluewater, the same company behind the political bios of John McCain and Barack Obama, as well as the Women in Power series and the "Fame" series with current celebs.
Written by Jaymes Reed who is the man behind DIGITAL CAPS lettering, who has lettered a ton of biographical comics on new and in my mind totally unwothies, like fucking Justin Beiber. I don't care if Dave thinks he can sing, I don't like when anyone who's half my age makes a billion dollars for being cute.Although being 32 and cute might be sorta weird. Now, here's the kicker with this George Carlin book. It's got no comedy in it. That kind of threw me, but then again. It's a biography. And we all know Carlin's classic routines, but to steal a great line from the movie of V for Vendetta, "but what of the man?" For those of you who may not know, Carlin's life wasn't always about those seven words you can't say on television. In fact it was a mighty fucking tough road to where he stood atop the great comedy Mount Olympus. He toiled in obscurity for a long time. In fact it wasn't till the 1970's when Carlin became the Carlin we know and remember today.
George Carlin is one of my heroes, if for no other reason than he spoke his mind. To be on stage, in front of millions, and still have the balls to not shrivel up and pussy out and be a clone is a huge thing. Besides those famous seven words, Carlin was a work in progress until the 70's. He did a lot of funny characters and wore a fucking suit on stage. A suit, really? George Carlin? The guy who said, most pro lifers are, "people you wouldn't wanna fuck in the first place." And now, you too can know his origins in 24 smashing pages of art delivered by Bluewater up and comer, Apriyadi Kusbiantoro. Reed writes as well as he letters. This is just the first in a series of "Comics" books to be written by Jaymes Reed. I think it's a great idea. I mean we pay attention to the star of the moment, and by we, I mean most simple minded people who can't remember last week, that we forget out roots. What brought us to the dance. Or, what happened last week.
So in summation, the writing was crisp. It told the story. Much in the advent of writing an actual biography. Reed did a lot of research into this piece. And you could tell. You could tell that Carlin is one of his heroes too. And even though the artwork was totally not what I was expecting, Kusbiantoro did a great job. I am not sure the media used, although it looks like either water colors or Copic Markers, I gotta say I pleasantly surprised. Sure there were points when the pace slowed down a bit more than I might have liked, and it was weird that a young George Carlin's eyes seemed to be crossed an unusual amount, but fuck people, I draw tits and ass and a guy who tries to look simian when he fights crime. There's also a gingerbread like sidekick in the mix. But that's a story for another time. Comics: George Carlin is a quick readup on the history of the all time greatest standup comedian of ALL TIME! If you don't buy it, you're probably a terrorist. Look I've had a couple of Pabst Blue Ribbons and I know it's only nine thirty in the morning, but I refuse to apologize for something you up tight conservatives pretend you don't do. That and the wife swapping parties. You people just need to come out of the closet. You'll feel a whole lot better. I do. And I'm not even gay. Or whatever the fucking PC vernacular is these days. You gotta pick up this book. It's history. That's what all comics are, history. A visual form of storytelling that is still here over a hundred years later. Passed down from the cavemen who painted on walls, to the Renaissance where everything was a fucking painting or a sculpture. To now, where comics aren't just for kids. And they can actually be a form of art.
Now, for those of you who know this review, and for those of you reading it for the first time. This is not your ordinary review where I give fucking thumbs up or stars or even a letter grade. With public education the way it is you're lucky I can spell at all. But I grade based on hardcore moments in professional wrestling history. The more hardcore or classic the moment the more I liked the thing I am reviewing. And usually, with the exception of the birth of the "nWo" promo, anything involving Hulk Hogan is pretty weak by comparison. This review rates something close to one of the creator's hearts. A moment from World Class Championship Wrestling involving two of the biggest tag teams of the era.... The Von Erichs and the Fabulous Freebirds. The match was Kevin and Kerry (I think) Von Erich versus, Terry Gordy and Buddy Jack Roberts. The stipulation was, whoever lost the fall, was out of WCCW. Loser Leaves Town kinda things. Fuckin' A I like it. I forget who lost the actual fall, but I do remember, P.S Michael Hayes showing up wearing a Santa Claus costume and attacking the Von Erichs after the match was over. Classic 1980's moment. In a side note, the Freebirds also attained tag team gold several times during their tenure. But due to a great rule that was later dubbed, "The Freebirds Rule" any two of the three Freebirds could defend the titles in a match. It's been done to death since then, but it originated with Michael Hayes, Terry "Bam Bam" Gordy, and Buddy Jack Roberts.

Batman Mad Love & Other Stories; A Hardcore Review *SPOILERS*

FINALLY Harley Quinn and her origin have come to the Hardcore Review. The ultimate story about Harley Quinn is such a treat to read and this is actually the second copy I have gotten of it. The first being a second print of the prestige format edition from the mid nineties. I traded a bunch of Lady Death comics to my friend, Dave, who is now my tattoo artist.
The story is drawn in the amazing style of the Batman the Animated Series by Bruce Timm and written by the enigmatic Paul Dini, both producers of the show that raised me on comics. BTAS is probably my favorite all time cartoon of ALL TIME. And to have a hardcover account of Harley's origin is pretty fucking spiffy in my book. I actually got to meet Bruce Timm at my first ever convention, Wizard World LA 2005. He drew me a Batman head and I got to tell him how much the show meant to me. The guy in line before me had the first volume of BTAS and had Timm sign every disc in the set. It was kind of funny, cause even then (my first con) I didn't really linger around the Big 2's booths. And now at SDCC I try to avoid them if I can.
The story goes like this, Harley Quinn wasn't always the Joker's sidekick. At one point she was a standout athlete in gymnastics who got a full ride to Gotham University. She excelled in her courses, but not due to hard work. She romanced her professors into making her a straight A student and a seeming prodigy in Psychology. Wanting to cash in and write tell all books about her case work, after graduation, Quinn, then Harley Quinzel, became a head shrink at Gotham City's most notorious facility, Arkham Asylum. Here she met the prize and prince of crime, Clown Prince that is, in the Joker. Falling victim to the Joker's charm and hard luck story, Doctor Quinzel let her guard down and Joker knew he had her. From that point on, there was nothing Harley wouldn't do for her Mr. J.
Bouncing back to present time, Harley is busy planning for the future, while Joker is determined to put the Batman on ice. After failing at her attempts to seduce the Joker, and being tossed out of a fifth story window, Harley decides enough is enough. But not in the way you might think. Harley has a plan to get rid of the obstacle between her an Mr. J once and for all.
Enter the "Death of a Hundred Smiles." What an awesome possible scenario. And the fact that this story, proved that Quinn wasn't just a cheap female Joker knock off. Harley had a mind and a demeanor that allowed her to be just as psychotic as the Joker, even more so, since her motives were purely based upon her "love" for her Puddin'. Harley wasn't just a flaky female foil for Batman. Sure she still has her moments of ditziness, but she is also in control of her destiny. And being that she was formed in an abusive relationship, and being that I have seen what abuse can do to the victim and their family and friends makes this story that much more important to me. Sure, fists can hurt someone. Usually those bruises and broken bones heal, but the psychological ramifications and scars run deep, and sometimes never allow the victim to heal.
This story, being so important to me and relevant to comic book history I have to give it a grade worthy of an equally important moment in wrestling history. A moment, that I believe was not recorded for posterity. It was the early 1990's and it was in Germany, a country known for tyranny and a butcherous nature. The match was Cactus Jack and Vader. Vader whipped Jack into the ropes, and Mick (Jack) took the move like a pro. He ended up in what was called a "hangman," where the wrestler gets his neck intertwined between the top and middle ropes. The move isn't normally dangerous, but in a match preceding this one, Too Cold Scorpio requested that the ring ropes be tightened. The tighter ropes caused Mick's ear to be torn from the side of his head. Being the ring warrior that his is, Foley kept on wrestling, while the ring announcer picked up the dismembered ear and ran it to the back where it was put on ice for a trip to the nearest hospital to have it reattached. And in a promo a few years later, Mick revealed that because he didn't know the German word for formaldehyde he wasn't able to ask for his ear back, as the nurse dropped it into the trash and said, "It's all a big joke."

The Quitter; A Hardcore Review

This has been a long fucking time coming. Harvey Pekar's, "The Quitter," another autobiographical look at the life of one Harvey Pekar. After writing a litany of his life, and working with his wife, Joyce Brabner (who will be at this year's San Diego Comic Con)n "Our Cancer Year," Pekar has decided to grace us with his WHOLE life story, up to, and including his run on American Splendor. Pekar delves into his youth, where he was a street fighter at a very young age, to a young man who had an impeccable recall of memory in high school and college.
Pekar takes us through his work in his families grocery, to his stint in the Navy, to his run in college, to the part in his life where we all met him. When he met Robert Crumb, and was enamored with the idea of comic books. But the whole time we feel like we're a part of Harvey's life. Pekar is a spinner of words unmatched by few others.
Obviously, as I have said, "The Quitter," is written by none other than Harvey Pekar. And it is illustrated by the incomparable Dean Haspiel. I purchased this book, when I was still going to a local shop that I had not yet run a foul of (for the comic I work on and supposedly my aggressive sales tactics to the the staff) years ago. And I saw Dean Haspiel at a signing at Isotope Comic Book Lounge back during the weekend of APE Con 2009. Sadly, I did not know about it in advance and did not bring my copy of the book along with me.
Haspiel's artwork rendered in a series of varying styles, brings Pekar's life to, well, life. The visage of a young Pekar rumbling through the streets of Cleveland from his youth through all the times he quit. And that's what makes this book so fucking compelling. Pekar, is just like all of us. He's quit the majority of his jobs, and his thought up futures. All day long we're inundated with the stories of mother fucking LeBron James, who's never once given up on his road to the NBA. But, he did give up on the Cleveland Cavaliers in his quest to become this generation's Michael Jordan. We've been indoctrinated with the visage of Donald Trump, who never gave up on his path to being the 2012 Republican nominee for the presidency. However, he's failed at being a business tycoon, a casino owner, a reality show star and making us believe he has hair. We're all quitters. Whether we admit it or not. Whether we know it or not. And Pekar and Haspiel make it ok to be a quitter.
Pekar is one of my heroes. He's made me a believer. Because of Pekar, I have found a love for the autobiographical comic book, as well as the "slice of life" comic book. And Haspiel has made me love the line work and variation one can scribble in one story. It all makes me feel like what I do is good, and a part of the comic book industry. Pekar gives me strength towards working on my own creations, and allows me to look proudly into the masses and say, "FUCK YOU" to all of those who just don't get it. He makes me realize that not everyone is going to like my work, and I am fine with it. My work, like that of Harvey Pekar's, is not for everyone. And if it was, it would most likely be drivel and tripe for the masses. Sure, it would make more money, but it WOULD SUCK, cause it would be cookie cutter in format and characterization. And I'm not looking to be the next Spider-Man or Batman. As much as there are stories I love, FUCK THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS! FUCK THOSE TIGHTS WEARING DOUCHEBAGS! GADGET HAVING MOTHER FUCKERS! PEKAR DON'T HAVE WEB SHOOTERS! NASH DOESN'T HAVE A FUCKING UTILITY BELT. In terms of writing the everyman, Harvey Pekar IS GOD. And that's saying something, cause Pekar is Jewish and I'm an Atheist.
There's little that can compare with this amazing piece of work that encompasses the entire lifetime of a man, not only who I admire, but respect. And Harvey Pekar's, "The Quitter" gets an amazing piece of hardcore wrestling history... the very first Hell in the Cell. At the then World Wrestling Federation's October 1997 pay per view, In Your House: Bad Blood, the then European Champion Shawn Michaels fought the Phenom, The Undertaker in a match that had a massive cage, complete with a top encompass the entire ring. It saw, Shawn Michaels drop an elbow, land Sweet Chin Music, and beat the shit out of a cameraman, all in order to escape the Deadman. Michaels got color and became a veritable Frankenstein in the days following, and went through the Spanish Announce table. In the end, the Deadman, lay dead after taking a Tombstone Piledriver from his "little" brother Kane, who debuted by ripping the door of the Cell off its hinges allowed The Heart Break Kid to gain the pinfall. All while wearing the "Crimson Mask" and being near unconscious.

Scott Pilgrim Vol. 1; A Hardcore Review

Try as I may. Try as I might, I couldn't hate this book. Just kidding. I picked it up a few weeks ago at Charlies Comics here in the 520. Seeing as how I had some extra money, and volume one was actually in stock, I decided to have a look at what all the hype was about.



First off, I wasn't really sure how I felt about the artwork. At first it annoyed me, as being overly simplistic, and almost lazy in a manner. Thing is, through reading the whole story, it just made it flow. With the plot, and dialog, the artwork worked.
Scott Pilgrim is not your ordinary slacker. Nope, he's extraordinary at what he does. He shares a tiny studio apartment with Wallace. It's so small, they actually share a bed. Another major point to bring up is that almost nothing in the apartment is actually Scott's. Keeping with the slacker theme we have going here, Scott has no job, isn't in school, but is in a band. He plays bass. The band's name is Sex Bob omb. Fantastic name if you ask me. And you're reading this right now, so it's a fucking fantastic name. And of course Scott is "dating" a 17 year old high school girl. I'm not really sure how things work in Canada, but according to Pilgrim they hadn't even held hands, cause Knives was too embarrassed. Yup, that's the girl's name, Knives Chau. Scott meets here almost every day after school and they hang out. One day Knives goes to one of the band's practices, and instantly becomes their biggest fan. Which sends their former biggest fan into tears running into his room.
But all ruts must come to an end.
Scott begins having dreams about a hot girl on inline skates who delivers Amazon.ca packages to the Toronto area. Then he sees her at the library, and a party, where he asks about her shoes. Scott is seriously interested. Yet begins receiving emails and letters from someone wanting a fight.
Scott decides to order some cds from Amazon to try and meet this young woman who has been identified as Ramona Flowers. Moments before she knocks on his door, Scott dreams of Ramona. When they finally speak, Ramona reveals that there's this internal super highway. A mode of travel that leads through the subconscious of others. They begin hanging out that night, when snow forces them inside. Ramona lets Scott sleep over only to kick him out first thing in the morning. No sex was had. Scott invites Ramona to Sex Bob omb's next gig. Strange, since he hadn't ended things with Knives, and she was gonna be there as well.
Crash and the Boys open the gig, and put the crowd to sleep. Literally. Sex Bob omb goes on and suddenly, Matthew Patel, the writer of the letters, crashes the gig. The fight with Ramona's seven evil exes commences. But Scott is the best fighter in the province, so even though Matthew Patel has mystical powers, Pilgrim and his entourage, including Knives fights off the first of many battles to come. Pilgrim and Ramona leave via subway and things intensify.
This book was as good as the hype it brought. And it's fucking 6 years old. Published in 2005 by one man band Brian Lee O'Malley through Oni Press, Scoot Pilgrim has taken the comic book world by storm. The series is done now, and I intend to read the other five volumes of WOW! That's pretty much all I can sum this up as folks, FUCKING WOW!
Scott Pilgrim is worthy of a moment in wrestling history equal to something fully changing the face of things and the status quo. The year was 1996, and both Scott Hall and Kevin Nash had been released by the World Wrestling Federation. The two made their way to World Championship Wrestling, where they staged an invasion. And invasion that culminated at that year's Bash at the Beach. Nash and Hall, took on Sting, Luger and Savage with their third man to be revealed. During the course of the match, Hulk Hogan came out, and dropped a leg onto Savage, his friend. Hogan betrayed WCW and made what might be one of the most important promos of all time. "This is the new world order of wrestling brother." I know, I said that anything involving Hogan would never be hardcore, but truth be told, this was possibly the most defining moment in wrestling history of the past twenty years.

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!

Brat Pack: A Hardcore Review

So, finally I bought a copy of Rick Veitch's Brat Pack. Man, what a mind fuck. When you grew up on shit like The Cosby Show and Family Matters, and read Spider-Man and Superman, to read something that tells the truth of how "heroes" would actually be it kind of sits weird in your stomach. Not bad really, but kind of like when you first heard about Santa Claus. The truth can be tough to take sometimes. And everything isn't just black and white, there's a ton of gray in there too. Just like in Brat Pack, Veitch hit hard with the gray scale. The world we live in today supplies a lot of moral ambiguity. And so does Brat Pack. The Mink is a raging psychotic, repressed homosexual with longings for his sidekick, Chippy. Moon Goddess is a tweaked out, toothless old whore with a serious hatred of all men, except for True Man. Judge Jury is a sociopathic racist, complete with pointy hood and giant gavel. And King Rad, which has to be the worst hero name of the group is a drunk and a pill popper who is also an enabler to his protege. And please don't get me wrong. I loved this book. Reprinted through King Hell in 1992 with reworked art and some script changes by Veitch, Brat Pack really sat about 10 years ahead of its time, much like Watchmen and the Dark Knight Returns were ahead of the curve in 1986.
Things start off pretty bad for the sidekicks in Slumberg. What you perceive as a villainous threat by Doctor Blasphemy in a Mink Mobile car bombing, takes out the four young would be heroes. It is revealed after much maligned ideals, that the sidekicks, affectionately referred to as the Brat Pack, are merely a marketing tool for their adult counterparts. They rarely go out on patrol or fight crime in any capacity, other than helping to instigate a gang rape of Moon Goddess' sidekick, Luna at a football game.
The book wouldn't be complete unless there was a tie in to the original Brat Pack, and that's the original Chippy who somehow survives the bomb blast and in a seriously fucked up form haunts the new Brat Pack and eats pigeons.
Probably my favorite part of the book is when the heroes are getting the sidekicks ready and in a series of quasi double page spreads with each quarter devoted to one hero/sidekick set. It continuously told a story, while telling each hero's warped version. Not unlike the Gospels according to those four guys who all told the same story, just in their own words. You know what I'm talking about. That really famous book that had all those great stories in it. Like, incest, rape, murder, betrayal, war, famine, magic and all sorts of cool stuff. I think they omitted the dragons and dinosaurs though. There's nothing quite like the truth ringing in your ears. And then finally, being able to hear it.
Now, for the grade. The true world of what heroes would be like cannot be graded with just any moment in wrestling history. It has to be a true moment. One that rang in with as much truth as someone in a costume and mask could possibly muster. And the moment I choose is one that rings truer to me than almost any other moment in wrestling history. And the true voice of wrestling, in my very not humble opinion, came when Joey Styles walked off the set of the live taping of Raw in late May 2006, after being pie faced by Jerry Lawler. After the commercial break Lawler called Styles back and apologized. And out came Styles, who ripped Lawler and the WWE a new one. Saying he was hired as an announcer not a Sports Entertainment storyteller. A role he was bumped off of Wrestlemania for. Bumped off Wrestlemania for JR. Who they fired only six months before, and then hired Styles to do his job. He then said he was bumped from Backlash. To which he had some hard feelings. "I'm not good enough to call Backlash?" He said he does what he does for every guy in the back who never wanted to be a "superstar" and wanted to be a wrestler.He called wrestling by himself for five years. No tv sidekicks, no story telling. Calling the matches move for move for half a decade.
Styles would later reveal in an interview with Bill Apter for www.1wrestling.com that he was approached by Vince to do the promo, and he was given full creative license for the wording he used.

Ocho: A Hardcore Review

Today I review Ocho, originally called Three Blind Mice, a comic created by Eric Mengel of the greater Phoenix area of Arizona. The basis of the book is three odd friends, Ocho (a giant blue man from the planet Crountoor), Pitbull (a nose picking goofball with aspirations of being famous) and Petey (a chain smoking cigar chomping teddy bear with a penchant for the absurd).
The first volume begins with the motley trio meandering around Mill Avenue in Tempe. Petey and Pitbull had just been put in the news paper for saving a stripper who was choking on a chicken wing. The stripper gave them each a thousand bucks for the save. However given the events later in the book, it's very likely that it was actually Ocho who saved the woman. As Ocho foils a bank robbery, but wanting his anonymity, Ocho tells Pitbull to wait for the cops. And Pitbull and Petey become "the heroes of Tempe."
Things continue to go awry, as they meet with their friend Eric, who is working on comics inside Coffee Plantation, also on Mill Avenue. Ocho tells Eric he needs a job and is trying to convince his buds to also contribute. Eric helps him by recommending Palapa, a bar around the way. Ocho becomes a bouncer at Palapa.
I honestly didn't know if I was gonna like this story at first. I began reading it at Amazing Arizona Con between customers and lookie loos. There was far more down time than I would have liked. But that's con life. Sometimes you're Stan Lee and sometimes you're how Rob Liefeld should be, lonely and broke!
But I read the stories mainly while working my overnight shift at the group home I work at. Which is seriously coincidental, cause creator Eric Mengel works at a group home. So I feel a serious connection with him. And that's not the only reason. We're both small, or micro if you will, press comic book creators. And, I seriously hope he doesn't mind me saying this, his mother is sadly dying from cancer. I was diagnosed with bone cancer, just over ten years ago.
Ocho is a phenomenal book. I honestly have to say I'm less of a fan of the story line involving his home planet of Crountoor, and more a fan of the slice of life aspect involving Ocho trying to live a semi normal life, and Pitbull and Petey just wankering around. It has a great story. And a lot of backing by some pretty cool people in the local community.
Eric,has been doing comics since 1995. In fact the last issue in the second trade paperback is from 1995. Mengel has a good head on his shoulders and the ability to keep cranking out Ocho. He's got a following, support and the will power to keep going. Ocho is a seriously funny fucking book. A book you should read, if you like slice of life, and the bizarre. He's up to the teens in issues, and has done some pinup work for other local artists and their collected editions. In the future, I would not only continue reading Ocho, but volunteer to do a pinup or two for Eric and his work. Especially if I got to draw the stripper who choked on the chicken wing.
As you may or may not know (if you don't read my reviews you FUCKING should), I grade everything I review on a hardcore moment in professional wrestling history. The more hardcore the moment, wrestler or event, the more I liked the book. As if you couldn't already tell by reading the fucking review. But every reviewer has their system of grading. Some of the more unoriginal bastards or bitches in this game use stars, thumbs up or down, or a fucking letter grade. But nothing rings truer than a moment that already burns in time. So here goes... in the early days of ECW, there was a rivalry. And a match. Sandman, the beer guzzling, chain smoking, cane swinging, pain inducing freak of nature versus the then pretty boy, baby face, who would eventually become "The Innovator of Violence," Tommy Dreamer. The match itself may or may not have been something to write home about. But the matches stipulation sure as fuck was. The match was a "Singapore Cane" match. The loser... would receive a violent caning to the back. Dreamer lost. And a caning he got. All he had to do was kiss Woman's (the Sandman's manager) feet. But he refused after every cane shot. With his back bleeding and bruised, fans pleading with Tommy to stay down, Dreamer stood face to face with the Sandman and said, "That's all you got? I took your best shots and I'm still standing here." Truly a defining moment in the history, not just of ECW, but of hardcore wrestling.

Wet Moon vol. 1-5; A Hardcore Review

I already reviewed volume on of Ross Campbell's Wet Moon series, but I'm gonna review all five volumes of it right here and now. For those of you who do not know, Wet Moon is THEE slice of life comic. And if you're not reading it you are either broke or a fucking idiot. Or maybe you just read super hero books. And if you're broke, go out and rob someone, but don't steal the book, cause Ross is a small press guy. He doesn't work with a contract, he hasn't sold the rights to his work for a movie or tv show. And if you just read super hero comics, put down a book you're unsatisfied with and pick this up. And if you're just a fucking idiot, sorry, but there's really nothing I can recommend to fix that. But maybe reading Wet Moon might help. IT SURE AS FUCK WON'T HURT! This series was recommended to my by my dealer, Charlie Harris, of Charlies Comics in Tucson, Arizona. And unlike a lot of comic shop owners, Charlie reads every new comic that comes into his shop. So he knows all the storylines, hot characters and even what's most appropriate for readers of any age, or pertaining to their tastes.
Wet Moon stars a plethora of amazing characters including Cleo, Trilby, Penny, Mara, Audrey, Fern and Maladay. It takes place in Wet Moon, Florida on the campus of a university. The story entails the lives of these characters and more, and their everyday lives, which rarely involve anything inside a classroom or doing any semblance of homework. Nope, it mostly involves relationships. And at the pinnacle of that, mostly lesbian relationships. I dunno, possible that Campbell has a fetish for the lesbians. Maybe he's trying to make a statement. Or maybe, much like fat man of slackerdom, Kevin Smith, Ross may have a family member that he's secretly outing by fervently referencing homosexuality. Maybe...
In light of all that, Wet Moon is fucking amazing. I keep telling people about it. And some people pull the whole, "I only read action comics." And maybe this will never get past the thick skull you got, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna stop trying. Fuck, I'll sing the praises of Wet Moon until Ross Campbell till I'm blue in the face and he sends me a half dozen restraining orders and some free art to shut me up cause, as he'll put it, "it's not helping."
This book has everything. But my favorite character is by far Trilby Bernarde. She's the balance to this whole thing. Cleo's usually down in the dumps about whether she should stay with Myrtle, who's actually a butcher knife wielding psychopath or hook up with one of her long time friends, whom she kissed while sharing a hotel room with Trilby and Glen when they went to a comic book convention where Trilby made Cleo cosplay as Lillith from Darkstalkers while she went as Felicia. My comic book crush Becky "Demo" Cloonan even has a cameo in volume 4.
And Ross, with respect to Justice League's Kevin Maguire, does the best facial expressions in the business. It is how I aim to focus my artwork. I am working on over exaggeration of my characters. Not just of their facial expressions, but of their posture, movement and bodies as a whole. It's one of the first things they teach you when you decide you want to be an animator. Just take a look at everything Pixar does, or Anime, it's all there. And if you're an aspiring comic book creator, who isn't bent on realism where a lot of this is lost, study Ross Campbell and Kevin Maguire.
Campbell has done other works, including Water Baby from the Minx imprint from DC a few years back and Shadoweyes from Slave Labor Graphics. But I gotta think that Wet Moon is Ross' baby. I carted my copy of volume three to Comic Con International this past summer to have Ross sign it, and got to talk to him a little bit about things. He told me that he is shooting for ten volumes of Wet Moon. So we have a few years yet of the daily ins and outs of these amazing characters.
There are some great storylines going on in the pages of Wet Moon. Including Myrtle's homicidal tendencies and who she'll go after next; the mystery of the "Cleo Eats It" signs posted around campus; the Worm Lizards' season, who is "Unknown?", Fern and her obsession with Penny Lovedrop; Penny's bastard pregnancy; Cleo and who is she gonna choose; Maladay's obsession with collecting and then showing Cleo all of the signs posted around campus; and many many more.
Wet Moon would make an awesome live action television show, or a phenomenal animated series. Each volume could be collected in a season.
Wet Moon is the best thing to happen to graphic novels in recent memory. As painful as it is waiting for the next volume to be finished, I think it's better than getting one issue and then having to wait a month or more for my next bump. I don't think that some people realize how addicting comics are to some people. When I pick up Wet Moon I could easily jam through the whole thing in one sitting, but that might cheapen the experience. "She is like a fine aged whore, who laughs at you when you take your clothes off. But you keep going back, because she is the only prostitute you can afford."
Wet Moon is one of the top reads every time it comes out. I am super glad I got past the idea of only reading so called "super hero" books. Cause honestly, lately there's been not a whole lot of super going on in my opinion. And far too many titles that don't belong on a shelf taking up space when something like Wet Moon is usually, if carried by said shop, put on a trade paperback shelf where it is much harder to locate. But go to your local shop and ask them for it. And if they no have it, knock all the "big two" off the new comic rack and start singing Green Day's "Basket Case" at the top of your lungs while running out the door.
You want a grade for this? You seriously want a grade for this book? Well, I just quit smoking, and I'm no where close to alcohol of any kind so here you fucking go. Mother's Day 2000. Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The Rave. Extreme Championship Wrestling's pay per view called Hardcore Heaven. The match, almost six months in the making. Yoshihiro Tajiri, "The Japanese Buzzsaw." The man you better not be a midget around, cause he'll kick your fucking head off Tajiri. Yeah, that Tajiri. And his opponent, "The King of Old School" Steve Corino. Corino was pissed cause Tajiri had won the vacated World Television Title. And afterward, he was forced to hand the belt over to "the Network's" chosen successor, Rhino. And when "the Network" screwed Tajiri, he got pissed, and started kicking everything in his path. And that included the bleached blond heel, Corino. This culminated in a battle that included a "four alarm" blade job by Corino that stained his nearly white locks crimson. It was fucking amazing. The only gripe I have about this match is the finish. Which somehow got edited from the table being set up to the pinfall under the busted remnants of said table. Happy Mother's Day Ma'!

Batman Judge Dredd: Judgment on Gotham; A Hardcore Review

Written by Alan Grant and John Wagner and illustrated by one of my favorite artists Simon Bisley, this one shot graphic novel that crosses over characters from both sides of "the Pond." This visually gritty and intense story begins with Judge Death finding his way into Gotham via a dimension hoping belt. Confronted by two Gotham police officers, Judge Death makes short work of the boys in blue. And the pointy eared freak in tights is on the scene. Judge Death somehow drops the dimension belt and Batman finds it. Upon picking it up, he finds himself suddenly in Mega City One, and within a heartbeat facing off with Mean Machine Angel, last of the Angel clan. And with proper amounts of property destruction who should show up but Judge Joe Dredd. Playing the usual strong arm of the law, Dredd provokes Bats into taking a swing at him, and then consistently piles it on by revealing the additional sentence time for each strike. Pretty funny stuff. Two worlds collide with Batman truly believing in justice, well his definition of justice, and Dredd delivering quick justice, without the whole pesky due process or a trial by jury of your peers kinda waste of tax dollars. It's Judge Anderson who actually settles the boys down, sorta.
She ends up breaking Batman out of custody and dimension hoping back to Gotham City with the Caped Crusader to track down Death. Dredd finds out and does a little "Pond" hoping himself. Catching up with Anderson and Batman is first on his list, but he runs across Death's Gotham running buddy The Scarecrow. Ol' Stawhead blast Dredd with his fear gas, causing Dredd to hallucinate fluffy bunnies and unicorns. But it's when Batman, Dredd and Anderson combine their efforts that they take down both Scarecrow and Death. Although there was a panel where it looked as if Death lingered in Gotham City.
The gritty and insanely rendered artwork by the enigmatic Bisley is as always, spot on. And Grant who has been writing the Judge in 2000 AD comics for years is brought more to the attention of the American populace by way of incorporating the opposite side of the justice coin in Batman. The dialog at points seems cheesey, as Dredd keeps spouting off. And then there was the scene where Death kills a rock band. That was memorable for it's heinous wordsmithing. But in all this is a great, quick read. No need for pesky back stories, as both characters, whether you know their histories or not, are pretty much made quite clear in the early stages of this book. Recently I have been considering how Batman would physically look given the things he does on a nightly basis. Would he honestly have time to train? Lift weights, do insane cardio and obstacle courses and fighting techniques on a regular basis all the while spending the night hours patrolling the city. And yes, I realize it's a fucking work of fiction, and that something like this could have little actual relevance in the existing world. However, given the idea, would Bats have the insanely muscled body that Bisley gives him in the book? Or would he be leaner and built more like a mixed martial artist? Like it really matters, but this is my god damn review and I'll take a fucking detour if I want to.
I am almost certain this is the first Bisley project I have ever reviewed. And what a way to kick this off than with grading it based upon one of the best bodies in the wrestling business. Having been out of the public light for eight months rehabing a torn quadriceps muscle from about May 2001, Triple H had left doubters wondering what he would look like when he came back. Would he be the same wrestler who had dominated the previous two years? It was planned in the December 2001 pay per view, called Vengeance that Hunter would do a run in. A preview poster was printed up and everything. However Triple H wasn't quite ready and needed about two more weeks to be up to snuff. So on January 7, 2002 in the world's most famous arena, Madison Square Garden, in front of a sold out crowd and with millions watching at home. After the very last, pain inducing commercial break Raw was back on. And just as you couldn't wait any more, his amazing entrance music, "The Game," by Motorhead blasted through the PA system. And the crowd went absolutely apeshit insane. I have to say for the majority of the two hour show, as a Triple H mark (at the time) I paced the limited floor of my studio apartment with my sledgehammer propped up on my shoulder. Hearing the music blare, and seeing my hero back on television brought chills. It has been said even to this day, eight years later that Madison Square Garden or any other venue hasn't experienced that kind of pop since "The Game" came home.

Hack Slash, My First Maniac 1-3; A Hardcore Review

Today, after a very long time in the making, I review the first three issues of the Image Comics release of Hack Slash; My First Maniac. This is as much of an origin of slasher killer, Cassie Hack as you can imagine. Cassie Hack is a young, semi goth, quasi punker chick who, along with her hulking friend Vlad, hunts down slashers. Her very first experience with slashers was with her mom, The Lunch Lady. Cassie went to a private school where her mom worked in the cafeteria. Cassie, was awkward as most kids her age are. But she was tormented by her classmates. Cassie's mom saw all this happening and decided to do something about it. So the Lunch Lady began slashing the kids at the school. But like so many slasher movies, she was hunted down and killed.
Cassie ran. Hooked up with Vlad and began slashing the slashers. The original series from Devils Due Press ran for more than thirty issues, and a series of one shots and crossovers. Cassie was even featured on the Suicide Girls website with her own set of pics. The photos of fans run in the backs of the issues are probably some of the best likenesses of fandom I have ever seen.
Hack Slash was created by Tim Seeley. Several issues of the original series was also illustrated by Seeley. Emily Stone ended up drawing most of the remaining issues of the series. Seeley is writing the current series along with Daniel Leister who is doing the art chores. The flash back sequences are awesome as the line style changes and the coloring is old school half tones. I seriously dig that shit.
I'm kind of bummed that the series went to Image. Although I feel this will give the series more coverage and the much needed boost towards the eventual release of the movie. Devils Due had been publishing the series for years. Including the exclusive Suicide Girls one shot. Which had three different covers. Each issue, current or past DDP series comes with a variant cover. The omnibi (plural for omnibus) has cover artwork by Ross Campbell who does the series Wet Moon.
This review is not so much just for the current series, as it is for the overall Hack Slash mythos. Hack Slash is a phenomenal fucking comic. From the uber hot Cassie Hack, to the lovable hell hound Pooch, to the misshapen hero Vlad and all the seriously fucked up slashers, Hack Slash is page for page one of the best comics on the rack right now. You like horror, on a Rob Zombie blood splatter scale, then you need to fucking read this book. Hack Slash is a bloody mess, with some killer tits and ass. I think one of the things I like best about Cassie is that she's not a traditional ditzy bimbo with huge boobs. She's smart, savvy and she is height and weight proportionate. She is also very much a Suicide Girl, sans the tattoos and piercings. Cassie Hack is everything the survivors of all horror movies are; strong female protagonists. In the spirit of the book, Hack Slash I have to go with a bloody mess of a wrestling match. And who better to go with than two of the all time bests in the industry. At ECW's Living Dangerously 2000, Steve Corino, the self proclaimed "King of Old School" took on "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes in a "Bull Rope" match. In a blood splatterfest, Corino and Rhodes bled each other for the love of the sport and the adulation of the crowd. This is one of the all time best, short lived wrestling feuds in the history of this storied industry. A double "four alarm blade job," Corino and Rhodes made history as two generations met in the ring and time stood still. In my opinion this was bigger than Hogan versus The Rock, in so much as Hogan could never dream to be the worker Rhodes was on his worst day. And Corino was one of the best heels of a short lived ECW. Blood and violence galore, Steve Corino regrets nothing in the massive scar tissue he now wears as a badge of honor for the sport he loves.