You Practically Rock

Wherein I discuss Comic Books, Coke and Energy.. kind of.
We dress like this for work every other day to keep things FRESH.

We dress like this for work every other day to keep things FRESH.

I work at a comic book store that’s super amazing because they let me sleep in the backroom when I’m too messed off of my anti-depressants to venture outside for fear of pooping my pants, but also because I get to read comics all day long and learn about what would happen to me if my really rich parents were to have been killed by a mugger after watching Antonio Banderes’ Mask of Zorro, or if I was a super powered immigrant from a war torn planet (Poland maybe?) raised by kindly white bread american folks, who would urge me to hide my ethnic powers except when I wear a very flamboyant costume.

Any way, there’s a lot to like about comics, mostly it’s the way that they make me feel like there are heroes in this world who wear capes (unlike my cousin Reggie who wears a cape to the beach because he’s ashamed of his Bacne) and that sometimes having a black and white view of the world is a good thing.

I think a lot about Batman, probably more than I or any person should. I know everything about him – everything, Hell Grant Morrison’s Batman run has been completely readeable and understandeable to me. But the truth is he is not my favourite super hero. Nope, not even close.

No my favourite Superhero is Mister Miracle: Super Escape Artist.1616068850_b9eb108223_o

That’s right. Perhaps the craziest thing that Jack Kirby ever created. (which when taking into account that this guy created most of the Marvel Universe, something called Devil Dinosaur, Kamandi the Last boy and my personally favourite: OMAC.)

Okay, so here’s the deal with Scott Free (aka Mister Miracle) – He’s the son of a New God, who traded him to another New G

.....for real ...this is an actual panel.

.....for real ...this is an actual panel.

od (an evil one named Darkseid) so that there planets could have a shakey if not totally reasonable peace agreement. Scott was raised in a Dicken’s like Orphanage called the Armaghetto and was brutally beaten up every day. He then escaped to earth (thereby triggering an end to the cease fire) and became a Super Escape Artist using the skills and equipment he picked up on his freaky torture planet. Oh, and his father-figure is a Dwarf named Oberon and he’s married to a Butchy Amazonian chick named Big Barda who wields something crazy phallic known to her as the ‘Mega-rod’ …and she’s the leader of an elite group of lesbian commando’s known as “The Female Furies.”

The best part is? I’m totally not even close to being jokey or sarcastic.

God I love comics.

So yeah, I’m totally into Mr. Miracle ’cause he’s insanely crazy and each issue basically follows the same story progression; we start with him about to practice a crazy escape that means sure death, something happens, everyone stands around for a few panels being angry that he died then he reveals that he didn’t – he escaped using crazy machinery that Kirby draws the shit out of, then he’s kidnapped by some reject from his old planet who has a crazy named like Vermin Vundabar, Doktor Bedlam, Kanto, Madame Evil Eyez, Supreme Magnificence, etc.. and instead of shooting him in the face and ending it, they put him in an escape proof trap.. which he escapes and yeah, that’s the ending.


It’s awesome.

mISS u!!!?!?!!!?!!?!?!

mISS u!!!?!?!!!?!!?!?!

Every panel is draw with a crazy amount of energy that if Hipsters could bottle it, it would could replace the vancancy left by the banning of Sparks and Coke (Coke Farts are making the Girl Talk concerts a lot less fun for me to go too.. for real.)


“At Night When All The Worlds Asleep” – The Super Tramps (so apropos)

Hey you guys,

I can’t sleep ’cause my mind is going a million miles an hour – maybe it’s because I was huffing glue and keyboard cleaner or maybe it’s ’cause I’m nervous about my big DJ gig this weekend.
Yeah, I decided that my band was a stupid idea ’cause no one will ever listen to an out of tune ukulele and a drum machine so I decided to be a DJ. I’ve asked a local Barrie bar if I could ‘spin some toons’ and they were all like: “Yeah, that’s fresh.”

I don’t have turn tables, but I do have an iMac and a downloaded copy of Girl Talk’s CD. I’m gonna spend a few hours on HYPE Machine downloading all the search results for ‘REMIX’ – It’s gonna be awesome y’all.

I’m opening for a bunch of dudes who used to go to my school, they’re all part time bouncers and full time ‘roid users. They’re pretty aggro but they play Jack Johnson music because they want people to know that even though they roid-out sometimes they’re totally chill and sit around strumming their acoustic guitars with their socks off and sing goofy songs about ‘lovin’ ladies who make them crazy‘ (actual lyrics – seriously you guys, these guys are soo talented, sometimes when they harmonize they hit these notes that make angels weep tears made from Unicorn sperm which as we know from Harry Potter is super rare.)

I think about Old Dirty Bastard everyday. Miss you. This makes me super depressed, sometimes I don’t know if life is worth living since Big Baby Jesus passed on to Jahova sometimes I feel like he was my poet laureate y’know? “I came out my mama’s pussy; I’m on welfare; 26 years old, still on welfare” Do they give out Posthumous nobel prizes?
He’s probably in Heaven giving Anna Nicole Smith the clap.. single tear old friend, possible father…

I’m starting to get the spins.

Will anyone come pick me up so I can go get a burrito? I’m seriously craving one bad.