To stay on the theme of comics a-moment: Spider-Man. And I’m only interested in this because I collected Amazing Spider-man comics in my teenaged years, then gave them all away to a girl I had a crush on in Year 12. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb.
Fresh after unmasking himself in front of the world, and after the shooting of his Aunt May, Peter Parker bought back a new life for himself by selling to Mephisto (the devil, sort of) his marriage to Mary Jane.
In other words: the editors of Spider-Man comics never liked Peter and MJ being married (Amazing Spider-Man (Vol. 1) Annual #21 (1987)), and the whole “everyone knows who Spiderman is” thing was too restrictive, and over Friday night drinks decided that it would be so much better if the whole thing hadn’t happened in the first place. So in a grand deus ex machina they swept the whole thing away and did a soft-reboot on the Spider-Man franchise.
Peter Parker is no longer married to MJ, and no one remembers who unveiled themselves in front of TV cameras. How amazingly convenient!
To be honest, Spider-man has be going since 1962, and if you want to keep it fresh to keep new buyers coming in, sometimes you’ll need to shake out the storyline and start again.
It reminds me of something Brian K. Vaughan said about his comics: “That’s storytelling, with a beginning, a middle, and an end,” he says. “Something like Spider-Man, a book that never has a third act, that seems crazy.”
The US Navy have shot down a spy satellite that was threatening life on Earth.
Specifically, it had some canisters of hydrazine used for propulsion that would cause ‘harm’. Something had to be done!
If I’m reading this right, a spy satellite that would burn up on reentry was shot down so that it could burn up on reentry.
With this coming (relatively) hot on the heels of China shooting down a weather satellite, it’s hard to read this as anything other than “Anything you can do, we can do better.”
Interestingly, they used a projectile with no warhead. Good ol’ kinetic energy from something moving very fast smacking into something else moving very fast.
And in the “Bad American News Story” file, this CNN feature has (among paranoid New Yorkers expecting a satellite to fall on their heads) a picture of the Hubble Space Telescope as “the satellite”.
I’ve come to Y: The Last Man via Ex Machina. In short, it tells the story of the world when every mammal possessing a Y chromosome, i.e. dudes, suddenly and at the same time keel over. Except for two: a young guy call Yorick and his pet monkey Ampersand (that symbol you get when you press shift-7).
Having read the reviews and had friends recommend it, I want to love this book. But no matter how I cut it, I’m enjoying it but not blown away. At the moment I find Pia Guerra’s pencils competent to the point of being dull The colouring has been done with a very limited palette like someone who has just discovered the paint-can tool in Photoshop. I don’t hate it. I’m just not impressed by it.
But then there’s the writing. In most comics the writing cowers behind tight pencils. In Y, without the art to hide behind, the writing is thrown into relief. It’s good. It’s still finding it voice at the moment, but its fun and at times thrust its tongue into its cheek. I particularly liked the American government having a Democratic majority because of the relatively percentage of female Republican representatives, and a witty discussion about all the male singers and bands that have now disappeared.
But for me, comics is the double-headed Janus that needs the art just as much as the writing. Maybe this will change for Y, if I keep going with it. Mind you, to stop now would be like judging the entire Sandman series on its awkward first book.
For Scientifica (published later this year) I’m supposed to put together a 50 word bio about myself. Writing about myself, which is selling myself; not one of my strong points.
Frankly, I’m tempted to go down the Good Omens track, where in the third person Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman ask the reader for banana daiquiris and money respectively.
Something that I’ve stood by these past few years is that history of Australia is more interesting than what I was taught: Gold Rush and Explorers. The sum total of Australian history for me was some gold was found, and a bunch of guys got lost in the desert and died.
Luckily, John Howard’s history of Australia went down in flames last November. Every last Don Bradman six of it.
So, I propose a new history of Australia be written: “Australian History: The Bits John Howard Didn’t Want You To See.” Tonight on ABC was a good starting point: Hunt Angels. It told the story of Australian director Rupert Kathner, but the bit that took my imagination was the Sydney of 1920 to 1940. More like Capone’s Chicago.