Fuck Supreme, Filler, God's Review, Superman's Pal and Invading the Outdoors
I decided to stop doing the Supreme thing all together, for now at least. In the first nine pages he basically broke every rule of sequential storytelling and anything I say will just be repeating myself. Plus, we’re moving up production of Elk’s Run 3 by a month and a half so we can have copies of it by San Diego Comic-Con, making me a lot busier. And Western Tales 4 needs to be prepped for the printer by Monday, to boot. Fun times.
I will give a little pimp over towards the fine folks at Ait/Planet-Lar. I read Filler last night and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m not going to pretend to be a reviewer by any means, I don’t care to be a reviewer, I read a comic like an editor, but I will say that it’s the kind of book that rewards the reader and that’s really the most important thing, a lot of comic creators feel the need to spoon-feed the reader every tiny bit of information so that they can ensure the reader “gets it”. There’re slight spoilers ahead so if you want to just know my final opinion, buy it. If you want the rest, read the next paragraph.
Rick Spears and Rob G took a chance (as did Larry, since it was his dough that made the book) and produced a book that; honestly, runs the risk of people reading it and finding it to be rushed and pointless, focusing more on the parts they feel to be inconsequential to the story despite the fact that they are the story. John Dough is filler; his whole life is the background – the inconsequential stuff. That’s all he wants, that’s his life, his story. The other stuff, the action parts, that’s just someone else’s story – he just gets sucked in. I have to assume the same people who complain about this book would be the same people who complained about Adaptation’s ending, saying it felt like a different movie. Hard to believe that there are people like that out there. Pick it up, I’m pretty sure the intelligent folks that read this blog would like a nice, intelligent comic book.
Oh, and check out this Elk’s Run review:
And, it's official. I'm a comic-creator alcoholic, at least according to Matt Dembecki's weekly rawboned strip:
______________
So, yesterday’s story sort of branded me a Nancy-boy in the comments section. Fine, whatever, I was a bit emotional when I wrote that. To reclaim a touch of my masculinity, I’ll ask you, what do you get when you put a bunch of poor-ass, third-generation, Red Hook residents in a cabin in the middle of Jersey? You get this, baby, thug-life meets country-life:
Does that not look like a bizzaro rap-album cover? I’m the sexy bitch on the right, probably fifteen years old, and I agree, it does look I’m rocking a hard-on. To the left is RJ, and my pops (pre head-shaved and goat-tee), with my sister, is in the middle.
At some point my father decided to buy into Outdoor World, a series of properties all over America where, for a yearly fee, you can rent cabins, pitch tents or park RVs, whenever you wanted to. For a bunch of city folk, this place was heaven, and we went there quite often the first few years. The one in Jersey wasn’t too far from Wildwood or Atlantic City, so it was choice for both kids and adults.
We had a good time there. Our first time up we went with my cousin Steven (not the one that passed away) and his mother, Monin. Steven wasn’t really my cousin. My mother and his mother were best friends so we simply called ourselves cousins. I have a lot of cousins like that growing up. It drives Robin nuts. She’s freaked out about the fact that I can name fourth and fifth cousins. The fact that I have fake-cousins just confuses the fuck out of her.
But we had a good time and I met Melanie, my first non-neighborhood, summer fling and the second Melanie I hooked up with before I even hit 16. I talked about her briefly, once. A quick recap would be: we made out a few times the first time our vacations overlapped, we made out a few times the second time our vacation overlapped, I carried a condom with me for that entire week, I rubbed her breasts and told her, “I know you’re horny, your nipples are hard,” and she broke up with me the following day for this guy Peter who’s parents were also members of Outdoor World but he lived in Philly, closer to her, and he had a Mustang. That’s really all there is to know.
I think she might have been a bit unattractive, not sure. The second time we went up, when the above picture was taken, was with RJ and Luis where there and they didn’t believe Melanie existed until they saw me lash tongues with her. RJ and Luis tried to get their own action that trip; I think RJ might have gotten it on with some short, ugly black chick in a model unit. Actually, I know he did, and it was fucking funny. She was ghettofied, I think she looked like Lil’ Bow-Wow.
Fuck, I got a great RJ story and I started writing it as an aside but it was too long. Maybe tomorrow. I have so many great RJ stories; I can easily dedicate a month to that kid.
Anyway, city boys in the woods, fishes out of water. I got attacked by a bat. Except, you see, I didn’t actually get attacked by a bat. I was walking back to the cabin after a “hot make-out session” and I saw a bat. It was about a hundred feet away from me, flying “towards” me and sort of dipped and I freaked the fuck out and just booked it, running and screaming. I got back to the cabin and told my cousins I got attacked by a bat. They didn’t make fun of me, though; they decided they weren’t going outside because apparently the bats are attacking. Brooklyn kids in the country.
We also stayed in the tent that first night. It was the cool thing to do. We got a four person sleeper for the three of us but the problem was, I’m six-foot-three, Luis is six-foot-three and weighs twice as much as me, and RJ is almost six-foot and a fucking spaz. Luis was trying to get comfortable when he stood up in an attempt to reposition himself. Somehow, RJ was making him laugh. Luis was having a hard time balancing himself on the air-mattress while bending over because the tent was so small and laughing hysterically and, well, he just fell, to the side, and took the whole tent with him. And now the three of us are tangled up in this tent and we can’t get out. Finally someone finds the zipper and we get out of the thing, vowing to never sleep in it again. Brooklyn kids in the country.
A bunch of stuff like that kept happening. Like, for instance, when we first discovered that white boys from the south can play a mean game of basketball and completely school us. Or when we discovered how ridiculously slow and stupid paddle boats are. Just stuff we weren’t exposed to.
I went out to Outdoor World with my family right after R and I broke up, it was one of the last times we went. I got drunk with my mom and danced to Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It.” I think that was the last time we went, I’m pretty sure they’re not members anymore. I don’t know, when you go to a place to get away from the stupid shit you deal with in New York and they play “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It” at the bar, it’s just not the same anymore.
I will give a little pimp over towards the fine folks at Ait/Planet-Lar. I read Filler last night and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m not going to pretend to be a reviewer by any means, I don’t care to be a reviewer, I read a comic like an editor, but I will say that it’s the kind of book that rewards the reader and that’s really the most important thing, a lot of comic creators feel the need to spoon-feed the reader every tiny bit of information so that they can ensure the reader “gets it”. There’re slight spoilers ahead so if you want to just know my final opinion, buy it. If you want the rest, read the next paragraph.
Rick Spears and Rob G took a chance (as did Larry, since it was his dough that made the book) and produced a book that; honestly, runs the risk of people reading it and finding it to be rushed and pointless, focusing more on the parts they feel to be inconsequential to the story despite the fact that they are the story. John Dough is filler; his whole life is the background – the inconsequential stuff. That’s all he wants, that’s his life, his story. The other stuff, the action parts, that’s just someone else’s story – he just gets sucked in. I have to assume the same people who complain about this book would be the same people who complained about Adaptation’s ending, saying it felt like a different movie. Hard to believe that there are people like that out there. Pick it up, I’m pretty sure the intelligent folks that read this blog would like a nice, intelligent comic book.
Oh, and check out this Elk’s Run review:
And, it's official. I'm a comic-creator alcoholic, at least according to Matt Dembecki's weekly rawboned strip:
______________
So, yesterday’s story sort of branded me a Nancy-boy in the comments section. Fine, whatever, I was a bit emotional when I wrote that. To reclaim a touch of my masculinity, I’ll ask you, what do you get when you put a bunch of poor-ass, third-generation, Red Hook residents in a cabin in the middle of Jersey? You get this, baby, thug-life meets country-life:
Does that not look like a bizzaro rap-album cover? I’m the sexy bitch on the right, probably fifteen years old, and I agree, it does look I’m rocking a hard-on. To the left is RJ, and my pops (pre head-shaved and goat-tee), with my sister, is in the middle.
At some point my father decided to buy into Outdoor World, a series of properties all over America where, for a yearly fee, you can rent cabins, pitch tents or park RVs, whenever you wanted to. For a bunch of city folk, this place was heaven, and we went there quite often the first few years. The one in Jersey wasn’t too far from Wildwood or Atlantic City, so it was choice for both kids and adults.
We had a good time there. Our first time up we went with my cousin Steven (not the one that passed away) and his mother, Monin. Steven wasn’t really my cousin. My mother and his mother were best friends so we simply called ourselves cousins. I have a lot of cousins like that growing up. It drives Robin nuts. She’s freaked out about the fact that I can name fourth and fifth cousins. The fact that I have fake-cousins just confuses the fuck out of her.
But we had a good time and I met Melanie, my first non-neighborhood, summer fling and the second Melanie I hooked up with before I even hit 16. I talked about her briefly, once. A quick recap would be: we made out a few times the first time our vacations overlapped, we made out a few times the second time our vacation overlapped, I carried a condom with me for that entire week, I rubbed her breasts and told her, “I know you’re horny, your nipples are hard,” and she broke up with me the following day for this guy Peter who’s parents were also members of Outdoor World but he lived in Philly, closer to her, and he had a Mustang. That’s really all there is to know.
I think she might have been a bit unattractive, not sure. The second time we went up, when the above picture was taken, was with RJ and Luis where there and they didn’t believe Melanie existed until they saw me lash tongues with her. RJ and Luis tried to get their own action that trip; I think RJ might have gotten it on with some short, ugly black chick in a model unit. Actually, I know he did, and it was fucking funny. She was ghettofied, I think she looked like Lil’ Bow-Wow.
Fuck, I got a great RJ story and I started writing it as an aside but it was too long. Maybe tomorrow. I have so many great RJ stories; I can easily dedicate a month to that kid.
Anyway, city boys in the woods, fishes out of water. I got attacked by a bat. Except, you see, I didn’t actually get attacked by a bat. I was walking back to the cabin after a “hot make-out session” and I saw a bat. It was about a hundred feet away from me, flying “towards” me and sort of dipped and I freaked the fuck out and just booked it, running and screaming. I got back to the cabin and told my cousins I got attacked by a bat. They didn’t make fun of me, though; they decided they weren’t going outside because apparently the bats are attacking. Brooklyn kids in the country.
We also stayed in the tent that first night. It was the cool thing to do. We got a four person sleeper for the three of us but the problem was, I’m six-foot-three, Luis is six-foot-three and weighs twice as much as me, and RJ is almost six-foot and a fucking spaz. Luis was trying to get comfortable when he stood up in an attempt to reposition himself. Somehow, RJ was making him laugh. Luis was having a hard time balancing himself on the air-mattress while bending over because the tent was so small and laughing hysterically and, well, he just fell, to the side, and took the whole tent with him. And now the three of us are tangled up in this tent and we can’t get out. Finally someone finds the zipper and we get out of the thing, vowing to never sleep in it again. Brooklyn kids in the country.
A bunch of stuff like that kept happening. Like, for instance, when we first discovered that white boys from the south can play a mean game of basketball and completely school us. Or when we discovered how ridiculously slow and stupid paddle boats are. Just stuff we weren’t exposed to.
I went out to Outdoor World with my family right after R and I broke up, it was one of the last times we went. I got drunk with my mom and danced to Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It.” I think that was the last time we went, I’m pretty sure they’re not members anymore. I don’t know, when you go to a place to get away from the stupid shit you deal with in New York and they play “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It” at the bar, it’s just not the same anymore.
4 Comments:
You get called fagpants yesterday and you make up for it today by telling a story about rolling around in a tent with two other guys?
You're gonna like San Francisco just fine, Rodriguez.
Sean, I just wrote my story for tomorrow. Allow me to give you a little preview:
A couple of times I’ve been at a bar and they’ll put some porno on the TV (some of the swankier, hip bars in DC and NYC I’ve been to do that occasionally), and I’ll look at it and say, “Oh, that’s Takin’ It to the Limit Part Five. There’s this great scene in the beginning where a girl takes it from two guys while be completely blindfolded. It was the first time I’ve ever seen a double penetration in a porno. Good stuff.” And I then turn to my friends and see them giggling at me, the pervert with the stiffy and a catalogue of fond childhood memories involving porno.
Very nice.
I remember the first time I saw porn in a public business. It was my first trip to Seattle, I went with my girlfriend and a buddy and we were all about 15 or 16.
We walked down University Avenue and into a used record store. There's a couple dudes hanging out and talking outside, and I think nothing of it. Then as I'm flipping through the Metallica, 'cause that's how I was rolling in those long-gone days, I glance up and my eye catches a TV hanging from the ceiling. And BOOM, there's this chick gobbling schlong like she's vomiting in reverse. I grab my buddy and say, "Dude, check it out!" and soon all three of us are staring and giggling like schoolgirls, and I don't find any Metallica I want and we go to leave when the owner sees us, still staring at the screen on our way out. And the guy runs to the door where those two guys were talking and shouts at the top of his lungs, "JERRY, I'M GONNA KICK YOUR FUCKIN' ASS!!!"
Was Jerry supposed to be watching the door? Was it Jerry who put the porn on?
The world may never know.
But I'm pretty sure Jerry got his ass kicked.
Ah...public porn.
But, the point being, tomorrow's story I try to stay 100% from my new-found Nancy-boy image.
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