It’s been a surprisingly good week for me, if you were at all curious about the man behind the curtain, the wizard behind the Oz. But who cares about that, let’s talk about a week of comics that was probably way better than it needed to be. TEBIOS! Because hell, I think this gimmick has legs, at least until I run out of recognizable languages to translate it into.
The Netflix original series House of Cards is about as well set-up and firmly grounded as an actual house of cards built by your extraordinarily dull cousin, except the house he built is probably better written. Negativity’s in the air tonight, maybe to make up for the good week of comics. KOMIKSY, sometimes you want to translate a word a bunch of times because introductions are hard to do properly.
“If music be the food of love, play on,” wrote Shakespeare, but we don’t care about that because his plays didn’t have pictures, and comics don’t have music. C.O.M.I.C.S: Come, Our Menagerie Is Crumbling Swiftly.
Another week, and another pretty phenomenal week for comics. Sure, 90% of that is because of James Stokoe, but heck, what more do you need? COMICS! Sometimes they are great.
Hey look! I have returned from the ashes, like a tiny child playing in the fireplace too long. Let’s bring it back with a bang as I talk about too many comics over the last two weeks, and I probably regret doing this. Ready? Let’s start.
In December, I made a short post about what a month of comics looks like for me numbers-wise, which involved one of my favorite things: obsessing over weird shit. This month, I brought it back with 5000% more pretty graphs and exactly as much talk about ladies in comics.
Got some marbles? Do you have all the marbles? HA! I thought not. But you don’t care, you’ve got comics, and sometimes that’s ok. It’s nice here, in Comicsland. It’s warm, and numb, and sometimes these little stapled bits of paper might make you feel something. COMICS! Read ’em or weep.