I-Con and Young Justice

Two things happening involving me this weekend.

1) My second episode of the first season of “Young Justice,” titled, “Insecurity,” airs this Saturday morning on Cartoon Network. So be sure to give that a look at 10:30 AM Eastern.

2) I’ll be attending I-Con this weekend at Stony Brook University. I won’t be around Friday, but I’ll be wandering around Saturday and Sunday (I don’t have any table I’m signing at, so it’ll be a case of catch as catch can.) I will NOT be on the Saturday panel about the DC 52 because I saw that as a no-win scenario. As far as writing comics goes, I work for Marvel: if I say it’s successful, I come across as promoting DC work; if I criticize it, I’m a Marvel guy slagging the other company. Didn’t see much point to that. I will, however, be on the panel on Sunday about writing for shared universes.

PAD

Movie review: Mars Attacks

digresssmlOriginally published January 10, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1208

When I was a kid, there were cards that my parents wouldn’t let me get because my father, in particular, had a real thing about not wanting ghastly or hideous images in the house. And cards where demented big-brained, skull-faced creatures are incinerating everything in sight certainly qualified. Essentially I wound up collecting Batman cards, instead, but I would always look on in envy at kids in the schoolyard, surreptitiously flipping through that subversive celebration of the grotesque called Mars Attacks.

I Guess I Owe an Apology to Zombies

I’ve been asked by fans if I would ever have any interest in writing fiction about zombies. And I’ve always said absolutely not. I found zombies boring and one-note and couldn’t imagine what I’d do with them.

Then Marvel needed me to step in and write the last three issues of “Marvel Zombies Destroy.” And the concept was simple: World War II Nazi zombies. I thought, “How could I possibly pass that up?” Still, I was worried that I didn’t have the proper mindset for such endeavors.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. Except now the fact that I needn’t have worried, in and of itself, worries me, considering some of the truly sick stuff I came up with. And even worse, I had fun doing it. It’s oddly liberating, from a storytelling point of view, to have a character get disemboweled and then use his own intestines as a weapon against his attacker. Although I did avoid the obvious dialogue line of, “That took guts!” Even with zombies, some things are just too much.

PAD

The Bear Story

digresssmlOriginally published January 3, 1997, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1207

“Tell us about the bear.”

It’s the most-asked question I get at conventions. “Tell us about the bear,” they say, “the famous Babylon 5 bear.”

Joe Straczynski, B5 creator, goes around at conventions and tells folks near and far about the adventure regarding a certain plush bear which has thus far made appearances in two, count ’em, two science fiction series, with more possibly on the way.

Of course, Joe’s version of the events surrounding the bear aren’t quite exactly right. And so I, in the interest of public spiritedness and public service, will now tell the complete, unvarnished, and, frankly, slightly bizarre history of the B5 bear.

No Wonder Conservative Pundits have to Blame the Victim

Glenn Beck, Geraoldo Rivera and, I would think, other conservatives are trying to assert that Trayvon Martin was responsible for his own death. That either he had it coming because supposedly he was a criminal, or he was wearing a hoodie (which is one step removed from claiming that women brought sexual assault on themselves because of sexy attire.)

Naturally that’s the angle they’d have to take. Because if they blame the gunman, then in the de rigueur discussion of gun control laws which is sure to follow this incident, and which rarely leads anywhere since no one wants to pìšš øff the gun lobby since they’re, y’know, armed, then Beck, Rivera et al risk being portrayed as coming down on the wrong side of this favorite conservative issue. Because you’ll take their guns when you pry them from their cold, dead fingers.

You know…the kind of fingers Trayvon Martin has.

Meanwhile, Kath and I will apparently have to wear our hoodies at our own risk.

PAD