Frank Miller, �The Dark Knight Strikes Again�
I never thought I�d say this, but this really wasn�t all that great. It is good, but it�s also a nightmare to read if you don�t know every little bit of DC comic history, which I don�t. There was just too much that I didn�t get, and there were way too many �in� jokes or asides that meant nothing for me.
Plus there were a lot of pages that just seem like filler. You know how in movies when they run out of things to say, so they shoot a quick music video where the characters dance, or go walking arm in arm at the beach, or change into a dozen outfits while the boyfriend/father/gaggle of girls shake their head or nod in synchronicity with the latest pop anthem? If you want to do that in a graphic novel, you just draw a lot of splash pages where the characters fight a lot. There�s quite a bit of that going on here. There are also six entire pages of Superman screwing Wonder Woman. I guess Kevin Smith was right.
For somebody who knows more about the characters in the DC universe, this is probably pretty cool. (For instance, Plastic Man is in this series, a character I only remember from the cartoon. When the hell did he end up going insane and killing people?) But I have a hard enough time keeping up with all things Daredevil, so I�m just closing the book on this one.
Anyway, new house story time! Just before I was completely moved in I was dropping off what was probably close to the last load of crap. It was kind of late, probably just about ten p.m., when some guy walked past me to go visit the house behind us. He was pretty happy (and pretty drunk) and gave the universally recognized �What�s up� sign to me as he past. I returned the gesture.
�How�s it going?� he asked while still walking, not looking at me. �You doing good? You doing fine? Everything happy and all that shit?�
�Yeah,� I said back, �How�s it going with you?�
�Good! Thanks fer askin�!�
I finished unloading all my crap and was about to get in the car, when happy drunk man showed up again. �Hey man, can I ask you a favor? I mean a big favor. A really big fucking favor. Can I ask you that?� �Sure...� I said, wondering if it was money or cigarettes that he needed. At first I was thinking cigarettes, but that hardly qualifies as a big fucking favor. So I waited for the answer.
�Can you give me a ride down to the Alma DMV?�
So my new neighborhood, whilst not that bad, isn�t exactly the greatest area in the world. Lots of people squatting on their front porch glaring at traffic as it rolls by, that kind of thing. But then again, I don�t want to be recognized as �that new punk who wouldn�t give me a ride.� So I say sure.
�Aw, man thanks a lot, I really appreciate this.� He jumps in the car and gets what is probably his first real look at me. �I bet your ass listens to Marilyn Manson, huh?�
�Uh... no.�
�Aw man, my bad.� (By the way, saying �My Bad� is one of the easiest ways to annoy me. Which means everybody is probably going to start saying it to me. I also get annoyed when people give me money, just so you know.) �Well,� he continued, �you just kinda look like you would listen to that shit. I mean, you know how it is � you look at me and you probably think I�m a gangbanger. And you�d be right. But we�re good people too.�
The Alma DMV isn�t very far from my house, so he didn�t get much time to philosophize on the subject of preconceived notions and character, but he noted that I was, �one of the good ones.�
�Listen,� he said as I pulled up to his destination, �you ever need somebody beat down, and they can�t see your face, you just come on over, bring us a case of beer, and we�ll take care of it.�
Everybody should be very nice to me from now on.
