Matt's Blog

Our vibrant, manly love for Red 5 Comics and its products is well-documented here.

Today, we have an exclusive interview with Scott Chitwood, one of the founding fathers of Red 5 and a writer for the publisher as well. His Afterburn (co-written with Paul Ens) has recently been optioned for a film by Tobey Maguire for what we understand is roughly seventy six bagazillion dollars.

In spite of his wealth and power, Scott was remarkably down to earth. Read on, effendi.

Afterburn is written by the two founders of Red 5 Comics. How did the title’s creation evolve? Was this a story you hoped to tell when you founded the imprint, or did it come later after Red 5 had begun?

When Paul and I started Red 5 Comics, we always had the intention of creating some of the titles ourselves. After all, if we were going to build the sandbox, we wanted to play in it. Paul and I brainstormed over a number of story ideas and Afterburn stood out as one of the ideas with a lot of potential. I came up with the initial concept and a first draft of the story, then Paul and I took stabs at revisions after that. It was during that revision process that we started identifying the appealing parts of the story (like the mutant sharks) and expanding on them.

Genre fans are very familiar with the “post-apocalyptic” environment from many movies and comics. How did you approach the idea of “post-apocalyptic” from a fresh direction?

It actually didn’t start as a “post-apocalyptic” story idea. It started as an Indiana Jones idea. Back when I was a kid, I saw a National Geographic painting in an archeology book that showed the U.S. Capitol overgrown by forest and vegetation. I thought it would be interesting if Indiana Jones were raiding modern locations and treasures rather than ancient ruins and temples. The question was how to go about doing that.

One day I was walking through my living room and my wife had a Discovery Channel show on TV about solar flares. They were talking about what could potentially happen if a solar superflare hit the earth. They talked about electronics being wiped out, vegetation dying off, humans being bombarded by radiation, and other fun stuff. As soon as I heard that, I knew we had out apocalypse event for the story. The rest fell into place pretty quickly after that.

What’s your take on this world you’re developing? Are you telling one-off action stories set in this larger universe, or is there an overall larger tapestry you’re creating as well?

We set the story up to be ongoing if we wanted it to be. The initial story arc was 4 issues so that if it tanked we didn’t sink too much money in it. But the story would be set up so the characters could have further adventures if we wanted to go there. That was the beauty in cooking half the world – there are so many places you can have stories and so many treasures Jake and his team can go after. Throw in international politics, rival treasure hunters, and other cool stuff and the story potential is endless.

Visually, what’s influencing the creation of Afterburn? Are there other artists or books that have provided inspiration for the way Afterburn looks?

Since we were telling a cinematic story with a potentially real world approach, we were looking for more realistic artwork over stylized penciling. That’s why Wayne Nichols’ art really stood out. He does beautiful, detailed backgrounds as can be seen in the opening scenes of issue #1. When we first talked to him, we told him we were looking for a “Mad Max” and “Terminator” look to the post-apocalyptic environment. Everything needed to be dirty, worn, and beaten. We wanted to see skeletons and dead bodies on the ground where they dropped when the flare hit. We wanted to see fires and destruction where planes fell out of the skies and wildfires raged. You know, the good stuff.

What was much more difficult to zero in on were the mutants. We wrote the full script without ever really thinking about what they looked like. So when the time came to draw them in concept art, it took quite a bit of time to choose a look. We didn’t want X-Men mutants with powers, but we didn’t want “Total Recall” freaks either. We settled on a look that was still distinctly human, but modified by the effects of radiation. As a reader, the process behind creating a look of a character was something I definitely took for granted. Never again!

What does Matt Busch bring to the table as the cover illustrator? How has he helped develop the book and its following?

Matt Busch has been a friend of ours for a very long time. We’ve known him since the earliest days of running TheForce.Net. So when we started this comic company, we knew we wanted to use him. Afterburn was a natural fit for his talents. As you can see from the covers, his art is stunning. I’ve had the cover art with the shark displayed at conventions and I’ve seen people stop dead in their tracks when they’ve seen it. Kids yell out, “Shark!” There’s no question his artwork has gotten our title a lot of attention. In fact, it’s what caught the eye of our agent that helped get us our movie deal.

Tell me about the process of Afterburn being optioned for a feature film. Was it being shopped around for a while, or did the production company approach you guys?

Several groups were interested in the movie rights to Afterburn after having seen it mentioned on ComingSoon.Net, but the writer’s strike slowed progress on many talks to a complete standstill. Then one day in an LA comic shop, our soon-to-be agent saw a copy of Afterburn #1 on the store counter and checked it out. He saw the potential in the story and contacted us about shopping around the movie rights. When the writers strike stopped, the interest started up again. Ultimately Tobey Maguire, Relativity Media, and Neal Moritz won the bidding war.

So getting it optioned was a combination of having a good story idea, having professional looking artwork, and dumb luck.

Where’s the film’s production at right now? Any status updates?

It’s in pre-production. From our conversations with the production company they’re very excited about the project and moving it forward. They have some great ideas for the movie, and I definitely think it’s in good hands.

I have embarked upon my Journey Into Morrison, and I keep meaning to write up my first chunk (basically, Animal Man) while I wait for my Doom Patrol trades to arrive.

Instead, I just got detoured by The Starman Omnibus Vol. 1, which is as great as I remembered it being when I read the series originally in trades & floppies.

It really is a landmark accomplishment: Superhero comics written with both respect and irreverence, blending the “real” and the fantastic effortlessly, creating relatable characters who live alongside outrageous beings without a single hesitation or bit of irony. Absolutely sincere, gorgeous artwork from Tony Harris; I’m finding I enjoy his early style (less photo-real, more shadowy and abstract) more than his current style on Ex Machina, though he also does great work on that title.

Anyway, that’s where I’m at: Knee-deep in Starman, and loving it.

Also in my active reading pile:

Untold Tales of Spider-Man (old floppies; great Busiek done-in-ones) Red Tornado (4-issue mini from early eighties; some of Busiek’s first published work, drawn by Carmine Infantino) Channel Zero (Brian Wood goodness) Aqua Leung (just started it; so far, trippy) Legacy of Ashes: A History of the CIA (NOT comics)

I’ve put a stake in the ground at Animal Man vol. 1 and plan to read/re-read everything major Grant Morrison has written for comics.

(I’m leaving out Zenith for now, the work he did prior to Animal Man for some British magazine or another, even though I have it in digital form (it’s out of print). I may try to dabble my way through it at some point.)

So it looks like this means reading, in roughly this order:

Zenith(?)
Animal Man
Doom Patrol
Arkham Asylum
St. Swithin’s Day
Batman: Gothic
New Adventures of Hitler
Dare
Bible John: A Forensic Meditation
Kid Eternity
Sebastian O
The Mystery Play
The Invisibles Vol. 1
Kill Your Boyfriend
Flex Mentallo
Aztek
JLA
The Invisibles Vol. 2
DC One Million
Invisibles Vol. 3
JLA: Earth 2
Marvel Boy
New X-Men
Fantastic Four 1234
The Filth
Seaguy
We3
JLA Classified 1-3
Vimanarama
Seven Soldiers
All Star Superman Vol. 1
52
Batman: Son of Batman (first collection of his run)

I’m leaving out a bunch of stuff—2000AD material, including his stuff with Mark Millar; Skrull Kill Krew (tried it, couldn’t get through it); random short stories; Vampirella.

I also haven’t decided if I’m going to try and mix up the various TPBs and issues of series so that I’m reading things in roughly chronological release order, OR if I’m just gonna read all the series in big sweeping chunks and try to order the reading roughly chronologically. It’s going to be a tough call; a big part of my reason for doing this is to observe Morrison’s development as a creator, and I’m afraid I’ll miss stuff if I don’t hop around a bit. At the same time, I’m never a fan of the constant switching of gears when I’m reading different TPB series, so I’d prefer as a reader to swallow all of one series, then move on to the next.

I’m excited. It’s going to be fun. Expensive, but fun. Looking at the list, I already own about half of the material on it. The rest I’m gonna have to track down.

Right now I’m two volumes through Animal Man. It’s good stuff; there’s big ideas in it, but it’s less…dense than his more recent work, so it’s clearer to see where he’s going. Then again, I’m also coming at it after having read ABOUT the run a bazillion times, so I’m already aware of most of the big ideas and plot twists.

If anyone has ideas on the above (should I read anything I’m skipping, or skip anything I plan to read?) fire away.

I’ve been a fan of Kurt Busiek’s Superman run since its start, and now it’s over, so I’ve been ditching my floppies, going cold turkey on Superman comics, and instead buying the trades of the stuff I like.

The 3-2-1 Action trade captures a mixed bag of Busiek super-stuff; there’s a single-issue that explores Jimmy Olsen’s “secret origin,” a Mark Evanier/Steve Rude tale from the late nineties created off an unused Kirby plot for the Jimmy Olsen comics, and a three-parter from Action Comics in which Busiek tries to make sense of the mess that was Countdown.

I don’t mind mixed bag trades, normally; it only bothers me if the bag has crap in it, and the main story in here is sorta crappy. I say that as a HUGE fan of Busiek and a growing admirer of penciler Brad Walker.

It’s just hard to get over the whole “Jimmy Olsen has superpowers now” idea, because that idea is dumb. One minute, he’s got all these freakish abilities; the next, he’s asking for membership in the JLA? Huh? This is NOT Jimmy Olsen, and as hard as Busiek tries, even he can’t polish this turd.

The other stories are good; Steve Rude’s Kirbyesque work on the final tale is especially fantastic. It’s just the majority of this trade that’s kinda lukewarm superhero nonsense.

Yet a crappy Busiek comic is still better than most books on the stands, so there’s that.

In reading the first Showcase volume of Phantom Stranger stories, I quickly fell in love with the character of Dr. 13. The guy’s a skeptic, which is fine and good, except that he’s a skeptic who on a daily basis finds his face rubbed in extreme incidents of the supernatural. If EVERY SINGLE DAY you found yourself hanging out with this creepy dude in a fedora and a cape, encountering witches and ghosts and goblins at every turn, wouldn’t you reconsider your skeptical view of such things?

All this is the long way of saying that I was superexcited to finally read Doctor Thirteen: Architecture & Morality yesterday, Brian Azzarello and Cliff Chiang’s own Dr. 13 story, and a well-publicized satire of the state of the DC universe and of comics storytelling in the modern age.

My impressions? It was good, but not great; that may change someday when I re-read it. It’s so short and dense that I’m tempted to re-read it this weekend, in fact. Overall, it seemed as though Azzarello was trying harder to give meaning to this goofy story than the story itself deserved; there’s some really striking moments of layered depth & commentary, but then there’s whole passages where you can tell he’s saying SOMETHING beyond the plot, but you have no real idea what it is, and not many clues to point you in the right direction. Also, as for that plot, it’s basically a series of disjointed fight scenes that find 13, his daughter Traci, and a random cast of nth-stringer DC characters fighting amongst themselves before chasing down the Architects, Azzarello’s smart-ass imagining of Geoff Johns, Mark Waid, Greg Rucka, and Grant Morrison.

Which ends up being a copout, really; he doesn’t come out and name these four, nor does Chiang really caricature them vividly in the artwork. It’s sorta too sly for anyone but the fan who’s done the research prior to reading, and that shuts out a whole level of meaning to the story to anyone but the most die-hard fanboy readers.

And that’s probably the point, at the end of the day. This is a book by comic fans, for comic fans, offering direct and pointed commentary on the state of mainstream superhero comics. In that sense, it holds up a little better as a piece of commentary than it does as a story with dimensional characters, although like I said, it has moments.

Art-wise, Cliff Chiang is just an absolute drop-dead genius and I love him in a way that is unhealthy.

Yay or nay?

Mostly “yay” for me.

I’m so gaddamned swamped right now—with work, which I don’t really wanna do; with HeavyInk goodness, which I want to do but have to fight to make time to do; and with life in general (jeez, my toddler is crabby lately).

I have discovered this, however:

RASL and Criminal Vol. 2 are so damn good.

Miranda Mercury is pretty good.

Batman Confidential is kinda weak, but it’s Batman, so I’ll buy it, because I STINK, I tell you! I STINK.

Fables is still kicking my ass, too—I’m waiting for the last three trades from HI, then vol. 10 in May/June, and then I’ll have a stack of floppies I’m gonna keep in my cubicle here at work, to take home and savor once I’m caught up on the trades.

This provides me an inordinate amount of pleasure.

Spent Saturday morning deep in the short boxes, trying to get a handle on what I have and what I need in the way of comical books.

I feel more…organized, and yet…there are many books without bags and boards, and others with OLD bags that I know are rotting the pulpy pages even as I type. There’s stuff I’m keeping, and I’m not sure why; there’s stuff I’m getting rid of, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea.

I have mild OCD when it comes to my comics.

The other big area where this manifests itself is in how I read. I’ve got a pile of probably ten different trades/singles I’m reading at any given time—I like the variety, but then I get frustrated because I’m not “accomplishing” enough so I shove a bunch of them back in the boxes and I maybe take out one or two more and I start again.

I feel this inordinate sense of accomplishment when I finish a book, especially an Essential, which are marathon tomes. If I’m lucky, I get to read one or two issues’ worth of comics every day, so you can understand how long it might take.

Reading becomes less about enjoying the experience and more about finishing stuff and reaching stupid goals.

Please tell me I’m not alone, and that some of you are as sad as I am.

Years ago, during college I think, I was first introduced to Mike Allred’s Madman. It quickly became a favorite, and I became a slavish fan of Allred’s distinct writing and drawing style.

Then those years went by, and I became an “adult,” and I began to wonder if the unique blend of whimsy and existential dread that had so delighted a precocious young college student would have any appeal for a grown-up with a mortgage, a baby, and a lawn.

It’s still a fucking great comic.

You’re going to be seeing many many posts on comics websites over the next few days about Steve Gerber, and you should read them all. Just from my vague awareness of comics history, as both an industry and an art form, Gerber is a towering figure, without whom so much of what we take for granted today would not exist.

I must confess absolute ignorance when it comes to Gerber’s work, however. I own some of it, but have read precious little of it. As luck would have it, I actually just started reading his nineties miniseries Nevada the other day.

However, the fact that I don’t know Gerber’s work doesn’t mean that I can’t know Gerber’s work, and here on HeavyInk, you’ll find two of his most highly-regarded creations available in convenient collected form. I ordered them myself a few minutes ago.

Howard the Duck

Omega the Unknown

(Hey, if you put in just “Gerber,” looks like Nevada also shows up.)

Both have recently returned to the stands in Marvel miniseries.

Gerber was also the writer on DC’s latest relaunch of Doctor Fate, in the pages of Countdown to Mystery; I’m waiting on the trade, but I’ve heard nothing but good things.

Countdown to Mystery

Rest in peace, Steve.

I love Alan Moore, as I’m sure many do; it’s not like saying you love pit bulls, or raw steak dipped in cranberry juice cocktail.

But man, I wish the dude would get over his whole sex obsession.

The League of Extraordinary Gentleman: Black Dossier is pretty astonishing stuff; I liked it, though I wouldn’t say I loved it, because I found parts of it to be so challenging to read (and in at least one case, skippable…yes, Kerouac parody, I’m talking about you).

I have to wonder, though…does Mina Murray need to strip down to her birthday suit every other scene? Do we need so many scratchy renderings of naked boobies?

It just seems a bit much, is all.

(Metanote: I wasn’t sure if there was a post in all this, but once I came up with the title, I knew I needed to write it.)

I’ve tried reading Ultimate Spider-Man, and it didn’t stick. Then I tried reading the Ultimates, and it stuck. Oh yes, it did.

Now I’m starting Ultimate Fantastic Four, and I find the first trade is reducing me to extreme boredom. So I skip to the second trade, and that’s better. Warren Ellis, Stuart Immomen (did I spell that right?), light fast superheroics with a good sense of humor.

I thought all the Ultimate titles were supposed to be, “Oh, hey, lookit me, I’m all popular and great, and I started everything fresh so you cool kids wouldn’t have to know all the continuity like those nerds over there, and I’m going to take you to prom after we give that X-Men fanatic over there a swirlie.”

Well, they’re not all that. Not all that. At all. That.

A quick note to say that in hacking my way through The Kingdom, Mark Waid’s event “sequel” to Kingdom Come, I’ve discovered the Offspring one-shot he did with Frank Quitely, and man, it’s maybe about the most endearing thing I’ve read in comics in a long long while.

I’ve recently initiated a project by which I start with “A” and move through my collection of miniseries and one-shots, reading all those I haven’t read in a while and evaluating whether or not I need to keep them or toss them in the eBay pile.

Last night I finished a four-issue prestige format miniseries from Marvel, The Adventures of Captain America, written by Fabian Nicieza and drawn (mostly) by Kevin Maguire. It came out in 1991, I believe to celebrate Cap’s 50th anniversary, and it retells Cap’s origin before spinning out into his first adventure.

First off, it’s a pretty kick-ass comic.

Second, it’s almost a perfect template for the ideal Captain America movie. It’s period, set in 1940-41, so it has an Indiana Jones kinda feel, and it’s got an epic scope built atop personal moments and character relationships.

Third, and finally, it has made me realize just how underrated Fabian Nicieza is as a writer. Kevin Maguire’s pretty rad too, although I don’t known if he’s underrated; he could pencil every book that comes out and I’d be happy.

But Fab, well…he don’t necessarily get the props he deserves, maybe because he’s spent at least part of his career as a legendary “hack.” I mean that in the most respectful way. There are some writers who must create, innovate, stimulate, do their own thing or something quite like it. Then there’s writers who WRITE, who just put words on paper because that’s what needs to be done, and that’s what they know how to do.

Fabian Nicieza is a writer’s writer. He’s done crap comics, he’s done great comics; they all have serious craft behind them, and they all make you smile at least once. He’s an unsung hero at weaving humor effortlessly into a superhero title.

He can also come in, get a goddamned JOB done, do it well, and then go home without messing up anything. He recently did a two-issue fill-in story for Action Comics, while Johns and Donner and Kubert were busy doing whatever it is they do that takes so freaking LONG. The story was tight, entertaining, even a little thought-provoking. It picked up the reader, gave him a ride, and then put him down right where he needed to be to continue the Johns/Donner run.

That’s in some ways a thankless task—obviously, writing Superman for any comics scribe is a big achievement, but getting two issues squished into a high-profile run doesn’t really give you much chance to soar with the character, and it doesn’t make the fans happy usually either, since all they want to know is when Mr. Hollywood and Mr. DC are gonna finish their Big Important Story.

Nicieza went in, got the job done, did a fine job of it, and got out. That’s gotta be a reason why he’s a go-to pinch hitter for Kurt Busiek as well; I’ve seen their names pop up together lately on some Superman stories, and I can only assume the guy’s an egoless get-the-job-done kind of person (and of course, assume that with no information about him, his working process, or his relationship with Busiek; that’s what the Internet is for—assumptions based on no personal experience whatsoever).

Anyway, if that Cap mini hits a quarter bin in your future, it’s well worth a buck, and if Fabian Nicieza’s name is on a comic, it’s gonna be worth a read. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I’m very much torn on Wolverine. On one hand, his overexposure as a character makes me a knee-jerk hater; on the other hand, there are some damned fine stories starring Wolverine, as his character archetype (the loner/hunter with a good heart) allows for almost as much variety and diversity as someone like Batman.

One good Wolverine story I picked up recently was Wolverine: The Brotherhood, the start of Greg Rucka’s run with the character. Illustrated by a surprisingly effective Darick Robertson, The Brotherhood puts Logan smack in the heart of redneck country to deal with the horrors of a backwater cult/militia.

Rucka gets Logan’s voice just right, the art gives the action an appropriate level of grit and grime, and there’s plenty of snikt-ing to go around. I hoped to enjoy it, because Greg Rucka’s one of my favorites, but I’m surprised just how much I did enjoy it.

I guess I’m a Wolverine fan. Who knew?

Like any good cop drama, Gotham Central serves to illustrate one overwhelming truth: The lives of cops are pretty shitty, especially the detectives and investigators who devote themselves to actually solving crimes and catching criminals.

Renee Montoya gets entangled in an ugly encounter with Two-Face that outs her as a lesbian, destroying her relationship with her family and marking her as an object of ridicule by her peers. Driver’s partner gets frozen by Mr. Freeze in the first pages of issue one. Overall, cops die regularly on the streets of Gotham, which is probably a dark glimpse of how a “realistic” superhero universe would function on the street level—lots of death, lots of destruction, lots of fear.

For years, the big truth of Batman’s life has been his War on Crime, and how that functions as an obsession that destroys any hope for a separate identity for “Bruce Wayne.” Lots of writers have played with that idea, coming down at points all across the spectrum between the ugly grim & gritty Batman to the centered, relatively stable (except for the cape and cowl) Batman.

I’m starting to see how these two disparate forces for justice overlap; both of them have little to no personal lives, and it’s their choice of profession/vocation that destroys those lives. To keep the lives of Gothamites as safe as can be expected in a city like that requires constant vigilance, and the ones paying the price aren’t just the flamboyant mavericks like Batman and Robin and their ilk, but the everyday people at the GCPD, working cases and chasing clues and taking statements day in and day out while kids, lovers, friends and family suffer their absence and their daily endangerment.

Great series.

I got back into comics right around the time Gotham Central was ending, and over the past couple years, I’ve slowly acquired the trades, along with the handful of floppies that were inexplicably left out of the trades.

Yesterday, I started reading it, and I literally could not stop. It is just that good.

The premise is head-slappingly simple: NYPD Blue, set in Gotham City. A police procedural, with some soap opera elements stirred in, set against the backdrop of Batman’s home town.

The execution is immaculate. Greg Rucka and Ed Brubaker are the two writers born to do this series, as they absolutely nail the mix of cop drama and superhero drama needed to pull this series off. They make it work from page one.

“Half a Life,” Rucka’s tale of Renee Montoya being forced out of the closet by a twisted plot of Two-Face, instantly made it to my “best comics ever” list minutes after reading it. It’s got a little Batman, a lot of Two-Face, but more than that, it’s got deft and gentle characterization utilized in the service of a storyline that in the hands of a lesser writer would have been torn to hell by ham-handedness.

It’s just SO DAMN GOOD, people. Seriously. Get it NOW.

I’m a late convert to the work of writer Jay Faerber but I have read the first trade of Noble Causes, and I just wrapped up the first trade of his latest series, Dynamo 5.

It’s the story of a philandering Superman clone who births five illegitimate children, each gaining one of his superpowers. When the bastard dies, his bitter widow brings the kids together to form a superhero team that will take the place of this “big hero.”

Faerber’s gift lies in marrying smart dialogue, crisp superhero action, and page-turningly good plotting, almost at a quasi-soap-operatic level. There’s just so much churning around in his stories that it blows my mind, and every book ends with these perfect “shocking reveals” that instantly propel you forward to the next issue. I’m glad I’m reading this in trade cause I don’t think I could stand the wait.

Which is obvious, I'm sure, but MAN--scope out that Amazing Spider-Man Annual 1 sometime.

It's pretty standard, but of course excellent, Lee/Ditko storytelling...until Ditko busts out these full-page pin-ups within the story of Spidey fighting members of the Sinister Six. Each one is like its own master class in comics art.

Kirby gets all the "king of comics" accolades, but Ditko deserves WAY more than he gets. While Kirby was out there exploding the boundaries of comics with his bombastic style, Ditko was quietly conducting his own revolution, emphasizing the humanity alongside the heroics, and tapping into the fundamental oddness of super-human beings.

I'm almost done reading the Mark Waid & Mike Wieringo run of Fantastic Four in hardcover form, and I don't know what much to say about it except that it is SO GOOD.

However, it's not SO GOOD in a way that redefines the comics form; it's just incredibly well-structured and well-executed superhero comics. What does that mean, you ask? Well, even if you don't ask, I will tell you, silly face.

The characters act like the characters. Everyone is who they are, and moreso, they are who they were forty years ago and who they should be forty years from now.

Stories are set up, paid off, and have consequences. A bit of business in one issue will launch its own storyline; later, what has happened in that arc will affect characters in another issue down the line. There is not just a continuity of universe, but a continuity of character and story within the title itself, within each story, even within each issue.

New characters arrive; old characters return; all the stories feel "new." Waid and 'Ringo dive into the FF toybox to play with Dr. Doom, Galactus, and the Frightful Four, but none of their stories with these tropes feel like anything that's come before; they make these characters feel interesting, vital, and new. At the same time, they introduce new elements and ideas to the franchise via tweaks (Doom's obsession with the occult), reinventions (the Frightful Four as bizarro mirror "family" to the FF), and flat-out new characters (Reed's computer doppelganger in the series' first arc).

Everything changes; everything remains the same. The "illusion of change," that ephemeral concept that drives superhero comics at their core, can be impossibly hard to manage. Waid and 'Ringo pull it off without even trying. There is momentum and transformation for these characters throughout the run; by the end of it all, the toys are back on the shelf largely as they were when the creators found them. Not in a bad way, either; they're shiny again, and they feel fresh. You remember why you loved them in the first place, and you enjoy them more than ever.

Via Todd DeZago, a fantastic story of old-school hardball comics trading.

Someone should do a parody of those Superfans skits from SNL, only instead of the Chicago Bears, the fans are die-hard Marvel maniacs.

"Da Four."

"Who would win in a fight: Ditko, or a category 5 hurricane? What if the name of the hurricane was...Ditko?"

This is a reach.

I rarely feel as though my range of reading and purchasing makes me at all qualified to issue sweeping pronouncements about the "best" of anything.

However, I must say this: the Agents of Atlas hardcover from Marvel is easily the best collected edition I purchased all year. Not only does it contain the miniseries itself, which is a template on "how to do modern superhero comics RIGHT" from writer Jeff Parker and penciler Leonard Kirk, but it also holds within:

• A comprehensive collection of online promotional materials, including sketches and character profiles
• The original first appearance of each of the six Agents, stories that in some cases have never been before reprinted, and a minor treasure trove of pre-Silver Age comics
• What If...? #9, the story that inspired the miniseries itself
• The LETTERS PAGE to What If...? #9; they NEVER reprint letters pages.

It is, all told, an incredible value for $24.99, even moreso if you buy it on one of the discount sites (like this one right here). Great binding, great paper stock, great everything.

Reading volume 1 of Essential Punisher, and I must say, I'm enjoying it.

The Punisher is a character totally defined by the decade in which he was most popular, the roaring 80s. He's a me-decade cardboard stand-in for every put-upon creep with a sense of entitlement who ever thought, "Man, I wish I could shoot somebody who deserves it."

I guess that makes me one of the aforementioned creeps, cause I get right into it. The stories where Punisher first appears and plays with the Marvel Universe at large, in books like Amazing Spider-Man and Daredevil, are okay for what they are. Yet by his fifth or sixth appearance, he was already occupying his own corner of the MU and appearing in his own unique brand of gritty pulp fiction.

A classic vintage Punisher story does NOT fuck around. Frank Castle talks to himself, he shoots bad guys, he pursues some larger target, and then he destroys them, often in an innovative way. In and out. End of story.

There's something comforting and satisfying about that simple template, and the variations available within it. It's not the kind of thing anyone should necessarily be proud to enjoy, but there's a place for it; the Punisher is really just a whacked-out version of John Wayne's character in umpteen cowboy movies over the years, and we've all felt powerless at the hands of crime or politics or the world at large, so there's probably nothing wrong with a little vicarious revenge.

Or maybe there is, and I'm a sick fuck. Who knows. The only thing that really disturbs me is just how much Frank Castle looks like Ronald Reagan.

So Dan has asked me what I mean by "art" comics, and so I will attempt to explain, I guess, although I'm sure everyone has their own definition, or at the very least, that some enterprising scholarly type has created a definition that will greatly improve upon mine.

"Art" comics are also sometimes known as "indie" comics, or "comix," or something else, although not all indie comics are "art" comics.

"Art" comics are typically a school of creations that take their cues not from the mainstream of the art form, but from the fringes, or the past, or something else entirely. Sometimes they're autobiographical; sometimes they're social commentary; sometimes they're just stories, or something else entirely.

I'm doing a crappy job.

Here's what happened: I bought on Amazon for $6 a book called "An Anthology of Graphic Fiction," edited by Ivan Brunetti, that collected a bunch of fringe, indie, and "art" comics. Also, some comix.

I found the book quickly unreadable, in the two attempts I made to read it, and so I'm getting rid of it.

I think for me it's all about story. I don't often respond to attempts to transcend the pure basic storytelling potential in the comics form, because it often seems self-conscious to me, and it usually pushes me away from the creation, instead of drawing me towards it. It's not that I don't like to be challenged; more that I don't like to be pushed around.

TJIC's list in the comments is pretty spot-on for me too, although you'd have to replace a few of the specifics. "The Sopranos" is a great example; it's more than a story, in that there's a lot of meaty commentary and theme and even a bit of surrealist wackiness (in the dream sequences). But fundamentally, it's a story, and I respond to it just like I respond to "Lost" or "24" or any other story I get myself into, whether it is executed in a new and exciting way or in a very traditional boring way.

I'm tired. I want more turkey.

I don't really like "art" comics.

Is there something wrong with me?

That last entry looks like ASS!

Help me, Heavy Ink Gods...I need an "Edit This" function STAT!

On the whole, I've somewhat shied away from the whole Ultimate universe over at Marvel. I did try reading Ultimate Spider-Man, and the first two trades didn't do much for me.

This weekend I finished volume 1 of The Ultimates, and all I can say is HOLY SHIT THAT WAS GOOD COMICS WTF.

Honestly, Mark Millar isn't my favorite guy, either; I think he's remarkably spotty for a records-shattering comics superstar, and I hate his coy attitude wherein he acts as though he KNOWS he's a superstar, even though half of what he writes is a guaranteed shit sandwich.

With The Ultimates, he really earns his right to be an egotistical prick, just like Paul McCartney earned his right by recording "Hey Jude."

This is UNBELIEVABLE shit, widescreen comics taken to their logical conclusion, the best summer popcorn flick never made, and it takes classic Marvel concepts and just tosses them into a blender until they're smooth enough to swallow. You recognize the names, and the powers, and some of the characters; but they're all slightly BETTER somehow, as if you wish Stan Lee and Jack Kirby had been clever enough to envision Thor as a stinky Norseman who drinks a lot and works with environmental activists.

There's not much more I can say, or SHOULD say, really. Those seeking depth were probably disappointed by The Ultimates. Those seeking great superhero comics, though, will find exactly that--it's like some kind of bionic version of the perfect comic book, and goddamnit, did it ever work for me.

ALSO: I don't know anything about chupacabras, multiple or otherwise, except that they're in that FF comic I linked that looks pretty good. Sorry.

Comic Book Resources posted two stories about Fantastic Four: Isla de la Muerte, a one-shot coming out in December that looks quite fun. The FF end up in Puerto Rico battling El Chupacabra, and superhero wackiness ensues.

For some reason, I keep pondering the Sinestro Corps War. Maybe cause it makes me think of the Surtur Saga, from Simonson's Thor run, which I just read.

I likes me the big, sprawling, epic-type story stuff. If there is at least one scene with a lot of characters charging into desperate battle against a lot more characters, I am in like Flynn.

Simonson did that well in Thor, with the forces of Asgard battling Surtur's demons in New York City while Thor, Loki and Odin battled the head demon himself in Asgard. Johns is doing it in Sinestro Corps War too, but he's maybe indulging a bit too much; I find one of these moments like every couple pages, and there's only so many times I can jump up in my seat and scream "Oh HELLS yea" to my 18-month-old daughter before she gets worried that Daddy's going nutty.

What I think Sinestro Corps War is lacking is a bit of wise restraint, but then, that's also kind of a virtue; I don't mind a certain balls-to-the-walls approach in my comics, where everything and the Batcave sink are tossed in the mix.

Maybe what's most surprising of all is that Geoff Johns is the writer on this. He's not the guy I would have normally associated with batshit whackadoo in the past, but he's serving some up here. Any time you have two PLANETS battling each other in space, you've done your job as a comics writer. You've earned your paycheck and your health insurance. Grab your briefcase and your sportcoat, and head home to the wife and kids.

The issue of online comics--digital delivery--has stuck in my craw for a while. It just seems like such a no-brainer that it maddens me that no full-featured solution is available. There SHOULD be an iTunes for comics--or at the very least, a Rhapsody. (Right now, there's essentially a Napster, and by "Napster," I mean old-school sit-in-your-dormroom-and-steal-all-the-shit-you-can-fit-on-your-circa-1998-hard-drive Napster.)

Well, Marvel has charged headlong into the space, and I have to give them credit: They're doing it. They're charging money for comics available online in mass quantities. The offerings right now are pretty meager, and not all that well organized, but I think over time, it has lots of potential.

No downloading here--none of the ubiquitous CBR files, or even the inferior PDF versions--just a simple web-based interface. On my big-ass work monitor, the pages look great; on my crappy home monitor, probably not so good.

But it's THERE. It's out. You can pay $9.99 per month and read the first 100 issues of Fantastic Four and Spider-Man, along with other random stuff.

Good for you, Marvel. I am as shackled to my print comics and trades and hardcovers as anyone, hence my presence here. But this digital shit is WAY overdue, and I look forward to checking out where this ends up in six months' time.

I spend way too much time thinking on a regular basis about the way things "are" in the fictional universes I follow.

Mostly, I think about whether I really LIKE what's happening. I use this wasted brain energy to fuel blog posts like this one and on my other blogs.

I've come to accept that there's just two reasons I read comics, ultimately: To relax as a 31-year-old man, and to relive my days as a 13-year-old boy.

Sometimes, the 13 year old wins, and I find myself buying shitty event comics. Other times, I can head him off at the pass.

Either way, again: A relative WASTE of brain fuel. I could cure polio with the brain power I waste--

Oh, polio is cured already? Fine, cancer then. Whatever.

It's taken me a long time but I'm finally coming around to Grant Morrison as the greatest mind working in comics today, maybe ever. (Okay, Alan Moore is up there too, but I'll leave that argument for another day.)

In The Filth, Morrison chronicles the exploits of an organization called the Hand. It fights against anomalies in the "Status Q," or basically what's normal, or so it seems.

Honestly, I can't even write about this. I don't even know what's happening or why. Yet I know something is, and I know I like it.

I can't think of any comics creator who has ever challenged me the way Grant Morrison has, and I'm only on the tip of his iceberg. (So to speak.) I've never touched The Invisibles, Animal Man, Doom Patrol...I've only danced around the fringes of his most celebrated works.

I like being challenged sometimes. Other times, I want clever superhero comics that just poke my brain a little and help me relax. But sometimes, it's good to have your brain grabbed by the hand of another brain and shaken into