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September 9, 2005

Wednesday Burns-White: Meanwhile, City of Heroes players are just being temporarily distracted by their characters' bottoms. It's frequently surmountable.

(From 07 September 2005's Badly Drawn Kitties. Click for honeymooning cat and polite religious practitioner.)

First of all, I'm wondering if Lydia's waiting for Dirk in the hotel lobby. It seems a little odd to send your husband out for ice cream otherwise; you might as well go along to the shop, or the little truck, or the roadside gelato vendor, or whatever. I'm going to assume that that's where she is.

Hawaii's a popular destination for honeymoons and other couple-oriented pleasure trips, I'm told. So, if you already know that the state you're in is Officially Romantic, and people turn up there a bunch to bonk, it might not be such a great idea to go trolling for virgins in the hotel to begin with.

I mean, dude.

It's nice that the fellow's asking around so politely, though. Getting voluntary sacrifices for that sort of thing must be such a pain in the ass. He's not even baiting and switching the virgins with vegetarian dinners, or pizza parties, or multimedia anti-drug presentations starring Kirk Cameron and the music of Van Halen.

The World of Warcraft burn's a little mean, though. It's not that they're virgins; I've met plenty of players who've known the touch of a partner's sensitive tissues. It's just that they have different priorities in life. It's a lifestyle choice. Sex just isn't that much of a... concern at those difficult times when leveling's an issue. Yeah.

Yeah, that's it. Gotta be.

Disclaimer: I don't play games. At all.

Posted by Wednesday Burns-White at 5:41 PM | Comments (15)

September 8, 2005

Wednesday Burns-White: Just in time for Canadian Thanksgiving

(From this season's Jack Chick tract, "The Missing Day". Click for dysfunctional family gathering.)

In recent years, Chick has relied entirely too heavily upon the lone voice of ostensible reason in a crowd of nonsensical sin. This is not to say that both of these haven't been devices from the get-go, but these days it's really getting phoned in. Maybe Bob Williams ate all the distinguishing characteristics, only to lose them when he went to convert Sparklypoo House away from witchcraft.

Uncle Mort's a bit of a confusing choice for the hero-preacher, though. He's supposedly rich, not a quality generally associated with Chickverse Christians who are still alive at the end of the tract. Worse, the family forgets all about this the second he starts telling the Thanksgiving story with a strongly evangelistic bent. It only gets brought up as a way to point out the matriarch's desire for his cash -- there's no way we can actually have Beloved Uncle Mort just be Beloved Uncle Mort here -- but it's an odd message. Even Scrooge went batshit charitable in the Chickverse. This guy's just, as they say, loaded. That's all. Which begs the question of why he's hanging around with these degenerates to begin with.

(This is the second tract in a row where we've gotten pointless extra detail, too. In the disjointed, otherwise unremarkable "What's Wrong With This?", a prankster kid and a grumpy old man clash to no useful end whatsoever. What? Was that supposed to be emblematic of the fundamental corruption of man? Bring back Little Bobby. Seriously.)

Chick's usually been quite good at comedy sin, too, but his heart just isn't in this hilarious family tableau. "My blood sugar's low" just doesn't rate with rallying the one-world heathen witch drunkard troops to chase down a passing Christian and "give him the business!" It's a nice touch to have all the parties cancelled "on account of fire," and it's good to have the jolly fat demons back again, but it's all been done. He's floundering. Even the drug references and homosexual demon are half-arsed. Maybe he really does need to stick to writing behind the scenes at this stage; he just doesn't seem happy anymore.

The most alarming thing about this Thanksgiving Chick tract: does this mean we're not going to get a Halloween tract this year? I guess there really is no following up to delightful Li'l Susy's tales of human sacrifice, which is something of a shame.

We haven't really heard from Li'l Susy this year at all, come to think of it. Pity. Maybe Ms. Henn killed and ate her. That wouldn't be so bad.

Posted by Wednesday Burns-White at 12:55 PM | Comments (45)

Eric Burns-White: On the other, other, *other* hand, maybe Max really *is* gay.

(From PvP. Click on the thumbnail for full sized miscalculation!)

And so we come full circle. Miranda, who in the end simply wants what she wants, without consideration of either consequence or other people, has been driven insane by the apparent disinterest of Max Powers. She has finally pulled out the big gun, kissing him full out. Max, who is cheerful, self absorbed, but generally an oddly decent fellow... has fired her as a result.

The question is... why?

Well, on the one hand, there's the possibility that he considers this harassment. Or worse, is worried he'll be opening himself up to a charge of sexual harassment, since he's her boss. But that seems unlikely, all told.

On the other hand, Max might truly be interested, but might feel that he can't very well be involved with one of his employees. When he pursued Jade, he was working for a competing magazine, after all. So, he might have been receptive to all of her advances until now, but because of their professional relationship he may have kept things professional. Now that Miranda's crossed the line, he can't very well pretend it didn't happen. Firing Miranda frees Max to date Miranda.

On the gripping hand... Max might actually, legitimately be in love with Jade. We know he was actively interested in her. We know he helped her feel better when she was feeling badly. And so he might see Miranda's direct interest as both professional suicide and the end of any chance he could have with Jade if she and Brent broke up. (And no, Max has never tried to break Brent and Jade up when they were actively going out, that I remember.)

On the other side of all three of these possibilities we have Miranda's reactions.

If it's the first scenario, Miranda's (eternally selfish) need to seduce any man who's in the area -- to prove she is indeed hotter than her sister -- has finally come back to bite her on the ass. One can't expect this will make her happy.

If it's the second scenario, Miranda might be happy -- especially if Max becomes something of a sugar daddy to her. Miranda, while not a bad person, wouldn't necessarily see anything wrong with accepting "generosity" from a suitor in lieu of working. Sex is a weapon, as she said once before. It's also a tool and a commodity, in Miranda's world. On the other hand... Miranda might be pissed. For Miranda, it's not about actually catching the men. It's about them pursuing her. She would want a fling with Max, definitely. (Especially when she learned that Jade once dated him.) That doesn't mean she wants a long term relationship. So in this scenario, it could go either way.

It it's the third scenario... then Jade has one-upped Miranda once again, even though Jade has no interest in Max. Miranda will go totally psycho Jan Brady. I mean, totally psycho Jan Brady.

Of the three scenarios, my money's on the second. I think Max probably does like her, can't lie to her about it, and can't in good conscience be her employer under those terms. I'm not sure which way Miranda will jump if that's the case -- certainly being the big boss's main squeeze (and therefore seeing herself as 'above' Jade and Brent -- who rejected her, after all) would appeal to our cheerful little red head. And that would lead to conflict, and that conflict would lead to many days of the Funny. On the other hand, finding herself having bitten off more than she could chew, finding that her prospective weekend fling has turned into a long term relationship (and her without a job right now) sets up a totally different conflict, especially if she can't bear the thought of admitting to Jade that she was just interested in seducing Max, not going out with him on any long term relationship.

That leads to conflict as well. And that too brings the Funny.

(The third possibility of this scenario is that Max has second thoughts after a passionate weekend, but feels locked in. And turns to his "old buddies" Cole and Brent for advice. The thought of a drunk Max bitching about Miranda gives me the giggles.)

No matter which of these ways -- or some other way I haven't even considered -- Kurtz goes, there's humor in them thair hills. I'm looking forward to this.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 12:34 AM | Comments (51)

September 7, 2005

Eric Burns-White: An admittedly personal note.

Gossamer Commons has been added to the new comics wiki. No, I didn't add it.

For the record, it had been cut from Wikipedia as non-notable. I supported that decision. I voted for its deletion.

But, I have to admit... it's very very nice to see the entry in the new encyclopedia.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 12:43 PM | Comments (14)

Eric Burns-White: And now, for the five people still reading, some talk about encyclopedias

Hey all!

So, Comixpedia's webcomics encyclopedia is go. It's in the extreme early stages, of course, but we're up to 110 entries imported from Wikipedia (under the auspices of the Free Documentation License) and some original work to boot. A good number of people have jumped in, and more are coming all the time.

And I'm a little amazed. It's still rough, sure -- but remember, we didn't start talking about this until September second. Here it is, one week later, and it exists and is growing, quickly.

There's still stuff to do. A name needs to be settled on. A logo needs to be prepared. The front page needs to be designed both for people who are looking to contribute and for people who are coming for information. We need to start putting the word out. We need to start recruiting more help.

And we need to reach out to the other Wikis out there. The Comic Genesis Wiki project, started to facilitate similar goals for the expansive Comic Genesis/Keenspace community is an obvious first step -- clearly, they should be able to draw off of our work and we the same for them. However, they're operating under Creative Commons, and we're under GNU FDL, and I'm not entirely sure how the two interact with one another. (If we alter and derive from their text, the new text needs to be released under the same Creative Commons license, for example. But we need to use the FDL to continue drawing off of Wikipedia.)

But these seem like resolvable issues, really. My suspicion is that the folks at CGWiki will want to pitch in, and I know we'll want to help support them. I think the same is likely to be true of things like the Achewood Wiki, which is under the FDL, so we can definitely cross information back and forth as needed. The amazing thing is, this is a project that really can cross all the different cliques and communities. This is something that could be of benefit to Penny Arcade fans, PvP fans, Scott McCloud fans, Keenspotters, Blank Labelites, Modern Talsians, Webcomicsnationalities, Drunk Ducakises, BuzzComixii.... you know. The whole nine yards. Everybody. It's like Babylon 5, only in convenient wiki form.

It's astounding to me, though. Every so often, I have to remember how new technology like this really is. When I was 18 years old, the internet was text-only and a project like this would be impossible. Not that there were webcomics at that time. Today, not only is this project possible... there's nothing stopping people from just up and doing it. "Hey, that is a good idea. Right! I've created it!" "Cool! I've imported the first five entries!" "Cool! Hey, here's some templates we can use!" "Cool! Hey, here's a list of categories we should flesh out...."

Astounding, really. We do in fact live in the twenty-first century, and there really are some dramatic changes.

Head on over, have a look, and pitch in. This belongs as much to you as anyone. And there's lots to do for everyone.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 11:26 AM | Comments (23)

Eric Burns-White: One of the more cathartic things I've written

One thing people have figured out -- and I've gotten some criticism for -- is that I don't tend to put cut-tags or the like in my essays here on Websnark. Wednesday does -- she's old school when it comes to the Internet, remembering the people on slow connections and dialup, the people who read this on an RSS feed and the like.

But I don't, typically. I don't because I read an essay from a Livejournal user called The Ferrett. The Ferrett said that the difference between an essay being read and an essay being skipped over by a majority of users was that single point that needed to be clicked. Without that click, you might well get the same hit count as you did before, but a huge number of people won't read your words.

I write what I write to be read. I'm confident in my readers. I'm confident that if what I say is important enough -- or good enough -- they won't unsubscribe or stop coming when they see a given snark is five thousand words long. I'm confident that they know what they're getting. And I'm confident that if it is more than they can take, they will leave and let me know. To date, I haven't been disappointed on any of these scores.

But today I'm using a cut tag. Because today's essay is highly political, and very critical of our elected government. And that's also not why people come to Websnark, and I'm aware of that. Folks know I'm a liberal because I never shut up about that fact. A good number want nothing to do with my politics.

So. I'm putting in that extra step. If you want to read what I have to say, realizing I'm far far far past the point of being 'fair to everyone involved,' then by all means click through and read it. If you're here for webcomics commentary or slice of life or whatever, and you just don't want to read yet another person talking about the Gulf Coast, then you don't have to. I won't be offended.

But I also can't be silent in this forum. Not any more. Not and still look at myself in the mirror. So even if no one actually reads this essay, I need to write it. I need to say it. I need to go on record as clearly as I humanly can.

Thanks, all. Click on the "more" link to see the essay. If you're on an RSS feed, click on the actual link to the entry to read it on Websnark.

Peace.

We as a nation are shocked and outraged. We are shocked and outraged at a government whose response to nigh-unprecedented disaster has been lackadaisical, whose response to the untold suffering of tens or hundreds of thousands, and the death of tens of thousands in estimate, has been slow and halting at best. A response whose lack of will and accountability has been criminal through all of this. I don't know a better word to use -- the levels of neglect and unconcern by leaders who have sworn an oath, who have specifically taken on the responsibilities to protect, comfort and aid us in our time of need go far beyond incompetence and into the willful abrogation of those responsibilities. There should be lawsuits of unprecedented scope against our national government in the months to come.

And it is increasingly obvious that no one in a position to care, does care.

Hilary Rodham Clinton -- a contentious figure in her own right -- went on the record some time ago about the current administration. "It's very hard to stop people who have no shame about what they're doing," she said. "It is very hard to stop people who have never been acquainted with the truth." And this is true, of course. And it is an increasingly apt description. And in the weeks and months to come, we will see a systemic distortion of events repeated over, and over, and over again, in all the familiar outlets, recasting these last few weeks. Administration officials and pundits will have their talking points and they will go on the familiar television programs and they will say a very clear message in very clear language over and over again: it wasn't our fault. We did everything right. It was an act of God, and the Democrats in State and Local Government didn't act when they had to. This is how they deal with catastrophic failures in response.

And it might well work for them. It has before. When you have absolutely no shame... when you absolutely feel no remorse... then you can continually play on peoples' natural tendency to think the best of you. And when they begin to think the best of you, they'll listen to whatever mean-ass things you say about those you want to blame.

Don't believe me? Remember, George W. Bush's Vietnam war record was shocking. Shocking. John Kerry's Vietnam war record involved volunteering multiple times for multiple missions and being shot multiple times. And on election day, Kerry's Vietnam record was a negative and George Bush's wasn't.

But the abject, catastrophic failures of our national government are simply not in doubt right now. They're simply not in doubt. We have seen Federal responses to natural disasters before. We have seen Nixon respond to Hurricane Camille. We have seen George Herbert Walker Bush respond to Andrew. Both Republicans, I would add -- but when there was a disaster, they mobilized immediately. When there was advance warning, the resources to save and secure life were prepared before it hit and moved in immediately afterward. When FEMA was a cabinet level department before the days of the Department of Homeland Security, they were empowered during times of disaster to order any resources they needed from any Federal department.

The difference now? We are at war against an enemy who specifically attacks us without warning.

That's right. We are in a war against terrorists who if they get a chance will attack us with horrible weapons without warning.

We had warning with Katrina. We had loud and clear warnings. The administration, following the obvious failure to respond to the crisis, said that there was no way to predict that the levees would fail. That right there was clear and unmitigated bullshit. I know this because I watched the News on Saturday and Sunday, and every last news program went through the scenarios of what would happen to New Orleans should the levees fail, and the fact that the levees weren't rated to this level of hurricane. When the levees did fail, there was no sense of surprise -- just the impeding sense of horror that the worst case scenario did come true.

I didn't much care that George Bush didn't cut his vacation short and return to Washington, by the by. I really didn't. The mechanisms of government follow the President. Sure, I thought that by keeping his schedule of leisure activities he came across as mind-numbingly callous to the suffering in his own nation, but I didn't figure that callousness would abate by his flying to Washington and sitting in the White House instead of his ranch, so whatever.

But when he flew down, to "take a first hand look," after being asked not to come by the Governor of Louisiana and the Mayor of New Orleans, who didn't want to take time away from efforts to save people's lives to provide Presidential Security in a city where law and order were washed away in a tide of poisonous and infected water, and he ignored them so he could get his photo opportunities and timed the arrival of Federal troops to coincide with his visit, I knew we had gone beyond callousness and into a disconnection from reality. When George Bush was there, no relief flights were allowed to put food and water into the hands of the suffering, out of concerns for security. When George Bush was there, rescues were put on hold out of concerns for security.

It is entirely possible that people died because George Bush had to begin salvaging his public image.

This has been a recurring theme, by the by. Laura Bush visited the Astrodome to get photographed handing out supplies to refugees. But while she was there, Red Cross operations were suspended. She got her photo op while people were told to wait before seeing a doctor. Nice pictures, Madam First Lady. Hope no one died while they were taken.

Do I sound bitter? I am. I'm astoundingly bitter. Because this is a government that has wholly defined itself by its response to national tragedy and international threat, and when we actually had a disaster, they weren't just ill-prepared, they clearly didn't care. Kayne West broke away from his script on NBC to declare that "George Bush doesn't care about black people," and that's clearly true. But it doesn't go far enough. I'm not wealthy by any stretch, but I live a comfortable life and I have a good number of toys. I'm solidly middle class. And I'm white and was raised Protestant. But if New Hampshire were the disaster area instead of Louisiana, George Bush -- and his government -- wouldn't have responded to save my life any more than he did their lives.

And the lie of Red State/Blue State has finally been abjectly exposed. Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama were all solidly red, but when disaster struck the response was anemic. It's not that Bush only cares about his supporters. It's that Bush doesn't care... well, about anyone.

The Port of New Orleans is devastated. The economic repercussions have already been tremendous, and they're only going to get worse. And our enemies have seen what has happened and how terrible our response has been. They have seen how unprepared we were when we had days of notice. They have seen how sluggish our response was forty-eight hours after the levees failed. They now know that if they manage to get a nuclear weapon into the middle container of a container ship, set to go off at dock, they could take out another one of our ports and we wouldn't be ready to contain the disaster as well as we were able to response to 9/11.

I need to repeat that.

The mechanisms of response to a disaster are worse now than they were on 9/11! The billions of dollars spent, the terror alerts, the injunctions to get duct tape, the Patriot Act, the Department of Homeland Security... all of these things have been done in the name of improving our security and when the time came we were unable to leverage a prepared response to a two hundred mile long hurricane we had days of warning about.

There's a reason that Geraldo Rivera -- Geraldo fucking Rivera -- was sobbing on national television, begging our government to allow the refugees in the convention center to cross a bridge and get to where there's power and water. There's a reason the cable news networks -- which have given George Bush and his administration five solid years of bye during some of the darkest moments in American industry -- have finally started to say what the fuck is going on here!

We're dying here. Americans are dying here. We have a refugee population now that potentially exceeds the population of my home state of Maine. And the response our government has had to that disaster has been halting and slow and unconcerned.

"George Bush doesn't care about black people." Yeah, no shit. He doesn't care about white people either. In fact, the one population we know he cares about in all this is Haliburton. Fucking Haliburton. They have a half-billion dollar government contract out of the disaster.

So, we know Dick Cheney responded quickly, at least.

Over the next several months, the spin machine will begin. The blame machine will begin. And for all I know it'll work, and the Republicans will overwhelmingly take the midyear elections, and they will pass another ten pieces of legislation that strip us of our rights and centralize authority in the hands of the Federal Government "to better protect us in the event of another Katrina." But for right now, for today, the American people who voted for George Bush and the American people who didn't vote for George Bush are united in shock and horror and a sickness that reaches into their very souls. And some are bitter, like I am. And others are just numb, staring at the government that ran on the platform of keeping us safe, and wanting to know why this happened.

And no one can tell them, because there's no real answer to that question. It just wasn't a priority at the time.

God help us all.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 9:43 AM | Comments (94)

September 6, 2005

Eric Burns-White: I once found a cockroach in my expensive hot cocoa mix. I did not love it.

Finally (I think) on this oh-so-webcomicish day... there is Five Ways to Love a Cockroach, with words by Alexander Danner and images by Neal Von Flue.

I have said before that Danner's projects tend to be those rarities where Flash works well as a tool to improve the whole of the comic. Further, I have mentioned before that the union of Flash and Infinite Canvas -- both of which I have trouble with separately -- can form a whole that works beautifully. Well, here we have some proof of that. A "straight" expanded canvas work, with the trailing path of a cockroach tying the imagery together, and the navigation tools simple and smooth and staying out of your way, has built a beautiful piece where Neal Von Flue's illustration blends with the almost poetic imagery of Danner's words. The whole combines into something greater than its parts.

I've often felt that way about Danner's words, before. His sense of usage and image -- like I said, poetic -- is what the work rests upon, and he knows better than most how to pull it off. But Neal Von Flue's art is a perfect blend here. That doesn't surprise me -- Von Flue is... well, very very good, particularly in works that mix media, and we see that here.

This is almost a straight review. For those of you who read these snarks for insight on how to do these things right, then look carefully at each frame of the Flash. Look how they piece together. Look how the static imagery is tied together. (This is not ersatz animation. This honestly is a new way to look at static, sequential art.) Look how quickly the whole loads and the pleasure of actually viewing the resulting file.

And then, reread, focusing on the content, and discover how creeped out you feel at the end. I mean, brr.

Danner and Von Flue did it right. They collectively get a biscuit. A tasty, tasty biscuit.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 4:03 PM | Comments (10)

Eric Burns-White: It's apparently old home day here at Websnark

(From Something Positive. Click on the thumbnail for full sized Inability To Win.)

So. After a significant drought of actual webcomics snarks, I've done four in a day. And what are those four? A John Troutman strip, Something Positive, Sluggy Freelance and Narbonic.

Next, I'm anticipating Spatchcock, who's been away from the comments for a while, to make mention of the fact that yes indeed, I am still reading my favorite comic strips. In case anyone was wondering.

This one jumped at me because there's some interesting characterization going on, though, and it deserves a little analysis. Besides, it's not like I can make untarring archives run any faster, and I need to do something with my brain while I wait.

Here's the thing: I don't think there's a snowball's chance in Hell Peejee and Davan are going to end up together. I might be wrong, but I'm certain on this. The core truth of this strip is that Davan, Aubrey and Peejee don't end up having sex. Period. I'm holding to that.

However, if I ignore that for a moment, there's an interesting parallel between Aubrey moving in with Jason (and ultimately ending up his girlfriend and sex partner) and Davan moving in with Peejee. Both involved circumstances where the independence of a core cast member gets cut down by fate they have no control over. Both involve dedicated friends who sometimes inflict violence on one another being put into close quarters. Both involve lonely people discovering that they're less lonely now.

And we know Davan had a crush on Peejee once upon a time. And that he got over it, but more than one person has remarked on it.

It's not outside the realm of possibility that Peejee might find herself pondering their relationship. After all, Peejee is feeling rather epically lonely right now. (Which is evidenced by the fact that she's practically going to bankrupt herself to go to a convention to be with Jhim, who she remains very close to and who she has lusted after from afar all these many years.) We know that Peejee didn't recover from her last breakup/betrayal by scum as readily as she has in the past. And we know that Davan is the one man in her life who's always been there for her and has always been nice to her.

If it did happen, it would end very very badly. In part because Peejee is feeling something akin to rebound right now, and is also finding herself in the somewhat unusual position of having no immediate recourse for a relationship or even dating.

Further, Peejee is attracted to gay men, and it's been solidly established Davan jams gaydar. (I'd look up the strip, but hey -- there's only so much time I can devote to this today.) Frankly, Peejee is bottoming out, emotionally, and that's the point when you start considering things you would never consider.

I suspect Davan will set her straight, if it does come to that. And I further suspect the dichotomy of reactions between it coming up between the pair and what happened to Aubrey and Jason will inform the next round of character development. However, the subtextual echoes are too strong not to at least remark on, and even if my rational brain says we won't go down that path, the irrational brain's drunk and got a broken bottle, so we're going there.

And even if we never get closer to the pairing than we've already seen, the depth of recursiveness and characterization shows a lot going on under the surface. Which would no doubt piss off the people who hate Something Positive because "it's so mean and superficial." And that was reason enough to post this snark, wasn't it?

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 3:18 PM | Comments (19)

Eric Burns-White: The other thing is, it's significantly less absurd than Quiddich itself.

(From Sluggy Freelance! Click on the thumbnail for full sized hand jive!)

Want to know a secret?

Back when I had terrific plans to do the Bringing The Story Shortbread Awards in a timely fashion to follow the Bringing the Funnies, Sluggy Freelance was slated to get Bringing the Story for the year for 2004. So you can sort of call this that announcement.

And, it was well deserved. "That Which Redeems" 1 and 2 was among the best story comics I think I've ever read on the web. It was the textbook definition of a strip that underwent a Cerebus Syndrome and pulled it off unreservedly. There were moments of humor and hilarity, there were moments of pathos and pain, and it all blended together into a story of character growth, of exposure, of transformation... and of redemption and, more importantly, the need to redeem.

It's also well know that I am not a fan of "Oceans Unmoving." At all. I was glad to see it disappear. And I liked good bits of what followed "Oceans Unmoving," and I've thought a good amount of the funny this year's been... well, funny. But the story on the whole has left me a bit cold. Okay, a lot cold.

And... well, I've never much cared for the Torg Potters. But I accept that others like them, and there's nothing that says I need to like every storyline. But, not being a huge Harry Potter fan to begin with, seeing a parody of one of the books... well, my reaction is meh.

But I'm still reading. There are days that Sluggy sits in the "Why do I read this webcomic again" pile (remember that?), but I still have my chips on the table. I have faith in Pete Abrams. And I'm willing to read for a year where I'm not too impressed because I have faith the following year will blow me away.

All that being said, I want you to take another look at today's strip. Ignore the word balloons. Just look at the Free-for-all Handshake Combat. Given that barring animated gifs or Flash webcomics are a static medium, the rhythm of motion Abrams sets up here is note-perfect. The level of absurdity that becomes the execution of the strip, and the utterly matter of fact way they go about it -- it doesn't matter if it's absurd, it's required -- becomes not just an effective parody of Quiddich but a parody of the matter of fact ways schools go about "sport" in the first place. I mean, honestly, is this any sillier than Lacross? Soccer? Basketball? It's a game, only it's treated... well, like it's somehow... I don't know. Important.

So, yeah. I'm not grooving on Torg Potter's return, but I'm sticking with. Because Pete Abrams knows his craft, and they can't all be written to appeal to me.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 10:30 AM | Comments (18)

Eric Burns-White: I'm sure that wasn't the first time that joke was done. Right? Right? Right?

(From Sporkman! Click on the thumbnail for full sized dear God he didn't just say that, did he?)

In contrast to the last, John Troutman is one of those folks who's traditionally heavily snarked that I haven't been talking a lot about, recently. In part, that's because of the eight thousand strips he's currently writing and (often) drawing, most of them are on some kind of hiatus or delay. Flint Again! is apparently going well, though if he's got it on the web I haven't gotten the memo. Felicity Flint: Agent of Harm and Vigilante, Ho! are pretty much on hiatus until, and I believe this is the technical term, "they get around to it." Andiewear I'm following (cheerfully), and I've noted with a certain amount of appreciation that Andie continues to be defined as a woman who is A) of some girth and B) a bombshell, which isn't a combination you see in a lot of places.

And then, there's the return of Sporkman.

I love Sporkman. I really do. The Chibi-style Newspaperesque Sporkman is as fun as any four panel story-light strip I've seen in a while. And I'm glad we've moved out of the prequel and into the regular strip. I like the character of Sophie Flint, and I like that the odd disconnect one had to have between the Prequel Amanda and the Ultimate Fate of Amanda is resolved.

I had strips I meant to snark last week, but... well, as with all of August, last week 'wasn't good for me.' (Of the last couple of weeks, "I think I've broken my tiny fist" has been my favorite, but they've all been good.) In any case, I've been keeping my eyes open.

And so, of course, today there's a hideous pun. On an advertising fad that... well, kind of peaked last year.

It was inflicted on me. I now inflict it on you.

Mu hu hah hah hah.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 9:52 AM | Comments (9)

Eric Burns-White: I've always wondered -- do babes really go for cherry-red cars? I mean, you hear that, but....

(From Narbonic. Click on the thumbnail for full sized revolution discouragement!)

I honestly don't have a set schedule for snarking Narbonic. I really don't. In fact, it's one of those things that I think I'm not going to snark for a while, because yeesh, haven't I done enough recently?

And then I actually read the next Narbonic strip, and then I need to snark it. Ah well, at least it's a webcomics snark. That will make you happy. Won't it? Won't it?

There's little profound to say here, mind. In fact, this snark exists to point out three essential points:

1. The hamsters are adorable.
2. Artie is incapable of being in a situation where he isn't the straight man, despite being a shapeshifting gerbil
3. This is hysterically funny.

That is all.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 9:45 AM | Comments (9)

September 5, 2005

Eric Burns-White: Also? There is a psionic midget. I'm just saying.

A couple of people have written to me about my recent City of Heroes comic book post. Not the post on the recent video game update, mind. The post talking about Troy Hickman's first issue of the comic book. The people who wrote to me noticed that I put a lot of blame at the rather... depressive tone of the first three issues at Mark Waid's feet, but failed to do the same with Troy Hickman -- instead, I seemed to put the bulk of concern on Cryptic itself.

This is true. And it's true for a couple of reasons. The Waid issues seemed to follow a trend from other Waid materials, and the tone was so radically different than the earlier City of Heroes comic that it seemed to be Waid's influence primarily. However, the continuity of depressing 'role models' among the Freedom Phalanx seemed to take the onus off of Waid. And as for Hickman?

Hickman gets it. I know this, because I've read Common Grounds.

Common Grounds was an anthology series. It didn't really feature a single hero or hero team, so much as it featured a recurring setting which told several... well, largely non-violent stories about the kinds of people who became superheroes and supervillains. The hook was a chain of coffee shops and donut stores that seem like a cross between Dunkin Donuts and Tim Hortons (the donuts and the like reminds me of Dunkin D's, but the culture surrounding the shops reminds me of the sense of Canadian pride and community that surrounds the Canadian chain). These coffee shops were neutral ground, where heroes and villains could come in, sit down, drink coffee, eat donuts, relax and shoot the shit with each other. Highly powered bouncers were on staff to prevent fights from breaking out.

It's a relatively high concept, and it's the kind of coffee shop that a city like Paragon City would actually need -- after all, there are hundreds of superheroes running around every neighborhood in the city, not to mention roving packs of villains. It's almost certain they would need a place to kick back, relax and have a cruller or three.

Now, long time readers know I'm not particularly happy with the state of comic book super heroes. In a world where the Justice League is stealing plot points from the Gruenwald Squadron Supreme, where ex-wives of super heroes are killing off wives of other super heroes to win their man back, where rape and hate are par for the course and where the entirety of the Giffen/DeMatteis is subverted into a plot by normal humans (and murderers) to make super heroes subjects of ridicule, it seems to me that the core idea that super heroes are supposed to be heroes, idols for millions, and adventure stories which adults and children alike can enjoy has been totally lost. Many people have highlighted the watershed events of the eighties -- Watchmen, The Dark Knight Returns, Miracleman, and even Crisis on Infinite Earths have led an increasingly post-modern and adult take in the nineties and the twenty-first century (including such clear successes as Marvels and Sandman) which, while yielding some great stories (as well as a ton of crap) also have meant that super heroes aren't simply 'not just for kids any more,' they're not for kids at all, these days. In particular -- the core concepts of the super hero... principles of justice, of honor, of truth, and of heroism for its own sake... are seen increasingly as either quaint or suspect. There must be something really going on.

Well, Common Grounds certainly counts as acting in this post modern tradition. The stories don't accept superheroes on face value. (It reminds me in a lot of ways of Astro City, but that's a different essay.) And yet, even cloaked in sophisticated storytelling... the stories all proceed from the core assumption that being a super hero is a positive thing.

Some of the stories are funny -- detailing a very human face among the heroes. Speaking as a fat guy who's struggling to get less fat, I found the Superheavyweights wonderful. Others are darker, but the dark stories never subvert the heroic principle. Sometimes, a person breaks under the strain. Not to spoil folks who haven't read it, but the story of a former hero who couldn't go on after someone died on his watch resonated hard -- because it was the kind of thing that would have been a given in the 70's, and it's the kind of thing that no modern hero thinks about in the twenty-first century. You have Superman and Batman who won't kill, but there are days they feel like they're it, and they're always seen as quaint because of it.

Hickman remembers the power of a hero who just wants to do the right thing.

There are two stories in the collection that contrast with the City of Heroes comic in question. One is a patriotic hero having to defend her values and choices to people who feel America has let them down, which compares to Statesman's general sense of fatigue. The difference was, even though American Pi -- who did in fact pull herself out of the gutter to become a heroine -- had her faith waver, she never let it go. Statesman one doesn't get the sense has that faith to begin with. And even as Sister Psyche goes through her laundry list of the ways she hates her life and powers, we compare that to Speeding Bullet, whose own life and powers is pretty old crappy. And yet through it all, the one thing that makes it work, the one thing that keeps him going is the fact that he helps people.

Troy Hickman gets it.

I could mention Charm and Strangeness and their discovery, and what it means to them and why it affects them as powerfully as it does. Or I could mention the bathroom talk, where even the villain mentions that hey -- he doesn't want to destroy the economy. Or the sheer joy that is Flamebelle's debut. But the point threatens to become redundant. While this story is firmly in the twenty-first century, it harkens back to Silver and Golden Age beliefs and attitudes without sacrificing the story that's being told. Grim and grittiness is acknowledged satirically if at all.

In a way, it strives to be as genre expanding -- as deconstructionist -- as Watchmen was in its time. But Watchmen, as Moore later acknowledged, did so destructively. Common Grounds, while not as groundbreaking a work, deconstructs the myth while also celebrating it.

This is why I don't blame Troy Hickman for the dour, bitter, cynical ultimate heroes of City of Heroes. Because Troy Hickman gets it. And the old man Statesman and Sister Psyche meet (and fail) in the comic? He gets it too.

So. I'm not a fan of the Freedom Phalanx, but as I've already promised in the comments of my last snark on the comic, I will read the rest of Hickman's run with an open mind. Because if Statesman and the rest aren't careful, he might sneak superheroic ideals into the comic when they least expect it.

Posted by Eric Burns-White at 2:26 PM | Comments (19)

September 4, 2005

Wednesday Burns-White: Long Legs, Reedy Wings

I wish that I could keep them out of the bedroom.

It's not an option: until the season changes properly, the windows must stay open. There isn't air conditioning, and extended exposure to even moderate humid heat triggers illness. But the construction of the windows makes installing screens difficult at best, and we rent, so that hasn't really been an option.

I keep the lights low and the curtains pulled, but they always seem to sneak through. They're the size of chocolate coins -- the massive ones, the ones which appear to come from no known currency -- or sand dollars. Everything about them is scrawny and elongated. Their wings are almost shrivelled, and look as though they should serve no purpose. They bounce and hover idiotically, slowly. The moths take crystal meth; these take 'luudes.

'Luudes, man. Fuckin' 'luudes.

I don't have a name for them. Keith's told me, I'm sure, about half a dozen times, but I keep forgetting. I'm not sure I want them to have names; I just want them to go away. They have the same squirm and reach as spider gods or camel crickets. They go to bits strangely when they're squashed, and they used to be easy to smack down.

Lately, they've learned to dodge. Or perhaps I'm a snail; perhaps I'm caught in some warp, stuck at 0.8125em of normal time, and the fat moths aren't panicked after all. When the unidentifiables rattle in my hair, smack my glasses and vibrate against the wall, perhaps it's just some distortion.

I have Raid cans. They can't be helping matters in any sense, but there's only so much you can use as the outer slice in a book-bug-thing panini.

Autumn can come now. It's already September.

Posted by Wednesday Burns-White at 11:54 PM | Comments (20)