Si a few weeks ago I was at a friend’s birthday thing and met a friend of his named Simon. Simon and I hit it off and spent most of the night laughing and drinking. Somewhere in there Simon suggested I come down to watch “the football” as he calls it. I suppose I should mention Simon is rather British.

So today I got up fuckearly for a Sunday and headed down to the East Village to watch a soccerfootball game. I got there a bit after 10, which was when the game started and opened the door.

Now, I live in New York. I’m used to rush hour trains. I’ve seen film and pictures of people crammed onto trains in Tokyo, as well. I’m fairly sure we all have.

For example

This place made all of that seem spacious. It took me at least 5 minutes to force myself to the middle of the bar. Then I got stuck. People wanted to go by, either way, they would grab onto part of my jacket and pull themselves by. You couldn’t move, really. All you could do was watch some soccerfootball. Manchester United vs. Aston Villa to be exact. Now in a space that crowded you start to worry about jostling and shoving and people who are drinking becoming a bit of a bother. Not here. Nope. Everyone was polite and happy. Fans from both sides, mind you. No one boo’d the other side, really. No, it was just a madhouse of die hard fans.

What killed me was the number of people drinking. Plastic cups, glasses and bottles. People moving around as best they could and yet I never saw anyone spill a drop. I didn’t get a drink because I couldn’t really move my arms and I just knew I would be the schmuck to drop a pint on someone else’s head and start the giant immobile bar fight. So, you know, no thanks.

The chants never stopped, the cheering, clapping, scream of “Oh come the fuck ON then!” and so on, were perfectly, gloriously, relentless. I was never truly a hockey fan until I saw my first game with a bunch of die hard hockey nuts. This is the same thing. There’s a certain (claustrophobic) joy to it all. Mmm mob mentalities first thing on a Sunday.

Actually to mention the claustrophobic bits, you know I am not bad in tight places. I am usually fairly calm. There were, today, a few times though when I had this thought of “What if I need to move, at all, ever?” and had to shake it off. SoccerFootball – not for the claustrophobic at all. Kee-ripes.

Anyway. During half-time I found Simon and ended up at the other side of the bar where there was enough space to actually move my arms! Not much, but I could move them! It makes an incredible difference. So we watched the second half, with Simon occasionally going “See, then, this is the football.” I explained to some other folk there I kinda-knew that I had watched soccerfootball before, I just didn’t follow it and I had never followed it into this place before.

Eventually, as these things, must, the game ended. Around noon I found myself outside, blinking. Felt like about 5 or 6pm. There’s nothing like letting that type of mob grab you and carry you away sometimes. three or four hundred people in a space clearly meant for two hundred all cheering and having a go of it just makes whatever it is your watching so much better. I had to bail and get some stuff done But as I left Simon grinned and gave me one last:

“Well, that was the football, huh?”

Yeah. It was.

Last night at Jim Hanley’s Universe we had a Popgun 4 release event. A bunch of us showed up. Not all at once, mind you but still. For now a photo of us after everyone had arrived:

(In order L-R: Vito Delsante, Elizabeth Purvis, me, Frank Stockton, Jeff Powell,
Joe Flood, Nick Tapalansky, Maximo Lorenzo, Jason Ibarra)

Anyway, at first things were slow. Deadly slow. To the theme of “Hey, man, you’re holding up the line,” being laughingly said at the one and only guy who was there. Yeah. But that’s the thing. The bunch of us are not exactly the most serious bunch you’ll ever meet. I worried a bit at first. That I was somehow letting these guys down, things were moving too slow and they had all shown up and… but no. Everyone was relaxed and easy (Nick is always easy…) and it was all right. We took things in stride.

Christ, if you ever get time to hang out with Nick, for example, I highly recommend it. There’s a reason he’s also known as “America’s Feisty Sweetheart.” Actually I’m not sure about that last part, but he told me it was true. Nick also calls me Julie, though, so what do I know?

Moving right along… people started to show up and get their free print. Jason was awesome enough to make 11×17 thick stock prints of the two page spread (sans lettering) from the story he did with DJ and I:

Yup, everyone got one of those free. And then they worked their way down that table and each one of us stopped talking, texting and otherwise being foolish long enough to thank them and sign the book. It was fun seeing so many people come up and pick the book up and flip through it and marvel at it. It’s a 512 page brick of amazing comics. You get stopped into a minor bit of awe when you first flip through it. I know I did when I first put my hands on it, and I co-edited the blasted thing.

It got later and we got rowdier. Dan Masso and Patricia (I hope she doesn’t kill me, I can’t find her last name in my memory banks right now) showed,. A bunch of us went from the store to a bar nearby where we sat and drank and talked for longer than we had sat and signed in the first place.

As Joe said at some point “I love that a bunch of comic people are sitting talking about food and cats and not comics” and he had a point. We weren’t there because we were networking, and making contacts, and all of that. We were hanging out because we honestly deeply enjoyed each other’s company. I wish everyone had been able to join us – another time.

It brings home what Popgun is for me. It’s a party. Yes it is a crushing fuckton of work a lot of the times. I won’t deny that. But the people who contribute to it are great people who love making comics and are interesting, fun, folks. They make doing that work worth it.

At the end of the day Popgun 4 sold out at Hanley’s. D.J. ran a similar (but I hear bigger – they had music and food and drink at the party itself) event at Metldown Comics in LA. They sold out, too. Aw, yeah, Popgun.

So Attila was telling me about something and he included a bit that sparked something else in my head and so now I present to you the hit T.V. find of the day week month year decade – CSI: Metallica

Starring:
Detective James Hetfield – Lead Vocals / Rhythm Guitar / Forensic Anthropology
Detective Lars Ulrich – Drums / Criminalistics
Detective Kirk Hammett – Lead Guitar / Vocals / Digital Forensics
Detective Robert Trujillo – Bass / Vocals / Forensic Entomology

Hetfield: All right boys, what’ve we got?

Ulrich: I think it was illegal downloaders, man.
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Happy POPGUN Volume 4 day, world! Yes, that’s right the best comic book anthology on the market has a new (512 page) volume out today! Still only 30 bucks, Popgun is just awesome. I’m not just saying that because I’m one of the co-editors. I really do love this book. So help me celebrate the release today!

If you live in New York: Come down to Jim Hanley’s Universe for a fun event! 6-8pm tonight there will be some Popgun folk there signing and acting like lunatics for you! The line-up includes Me, Nick Tapalansky, Frank Stockton, Jeff Powell, Alex Eckman-Lawn, Jason Ibarra, Vito Delsante, and Joe Flood! There could be special guests, even! It’s gonna be great. Come down, grab a copy of Popgun and say hi! Jason Ibarra drew a story D.J. Kirkbride and I drew and we’ll have a free gift for everyone (until we run out) who buys Popgun! That’s Jim Hanley’s Universe on 33rd right off of 5th Ave, across from the Empire State Building.

If you live in L.A.: Head on over to Meltdown Comics for a whole party! All sorts of creators will be there, including D.J. Kirkbride. I have no idea who will be there, mind you, but I hear a goodly amount of creators are showing. Plus there will be music and drinks and free give-aways as well! Meltdown Comics, 7522 Sunset Blvd, L.A.

But you want to know more about Popgun, you say! Well here is the book’s website. You can get a full list of creators (something like 80 of them) and read a bunch of stories from the book for free. Including that one I mentioned earlier by D.J. Kirkbride, me and Jason Ibarra. It’s Popgun day, guys! Now, what if you don’t have a local comic book store? Well, call 1-888-266-4226 for the Comic Book Store Locator service and find one! Or you can order it from Amazon.

So there you have it, explore, enjoy, and celebrate Popgun Day!

(via Newsweek) A temple complex in Turkey that predates even the pyramids is rewriting the story of human evolution.

Standing on the hill at dawn, overseeing a team of 40 Kurdish diggers, the German-born archeologist waves a hand over his discovery here, a revolution in the story of human origins. Schmidt has uncovered a vast and beautiful temple complex, a structure so ancient that it may be the very first thing human beings ever built. The site isn’t just old, it redefines old: the temple was built 11,500 years ago—a staggering 7,000 years before the Great Pyramid, and more than 6,000 years before Stonehenge first took shape. The ruins are so early that they predate villages, pottery, domesticated animals, and even agriculture—the first embers of civilization. In fact, Schmidt thinks the temple itself, built after the end of the last Ice Age by hunter-gatherers, became that ember—the spark that launched mankind toward farming, urban life, and all that followed.

…..

Though not as large as Stonehenge—the biggest circle is 30 yards across, the tallest pillars 17 feet high—the ruins are astonishing in number. Last year Schmidt found his third and fourth examples of the temples. Ground-penetrating radar indicates that another 15 to 20 such monumental ruins lie under the surface. Schmidt’s German-Turkish team has also uncovered some 50 of the huge pillars, including two found in his most recent dig season that are not just the biggest yet, but, according to carbon dating, are the oldest monumental artworks in the world.

————–
Yeah just go read it all yourself

Too many of them, Atlas thought to himself, misunderstood his fate. Oh, it was an easy mistake to make, he figured, what with the number of pictures that had been drawn over the centuries. Not that they were wholly wrong, either, he admitted to himself.

Atlas took a deep breath, careful of the burden across his wide shoulders. He stood straighter, no longer kneeling. The fact was, he considered, holding the weight of the world was nothing new. Everyone did it, really. Heracles had his labors, and Odysseus his quest. No matter what the actuality of it, each person held up the weight of the world by themselves. No, his punishment was far from unique.

With a grin, he lifted his left foot carefully. Oh! so carefully. The point was not in bearing weight, he thought. Everything bears weight, its own, part of the sky, the wider universe even. The forces may be small when you considered each by itself but they did add up. A life always weighs plenty, he knew well. No, holding up raw weight was something every being was built for.

He settled his massive left foot back down. It was, he saw, an inch in front of the right one. Carefully, now, you old fool, he thought. Another breath, a pause and then the right foot lifted. Yes, well then, Atlas thought, where was, yes, of course. The secret, he smiled to himself, was in grace. The test, the punishment, was not to hold up the world. No, the punishment was to be given the weight of it all with no thought to where to go next. It was a punishment, he knew, Zeus had placed all mortals under.

But the secret, ah that came clear with time, he reflected. Grace under the weight. The ability to move forward despite it all. Too easy was to simply hold it aloft and not let it fall or shake. A statue could do that job. But to move, to carry it steadfast and true, without shaking off the people, bringing down the cities or jogging loose the sky itself, therein lay the true challenge.

Atlas’ right foot came down. He stared upon it, there against the ground. It was a full inch and a half in front of the left. Progress, Atlas cheered in silence, is all I can ever ask for. Why, at this rate I may master running before long. Well. As length goes to immortals, he admitted to himself. The search was not for endurance but for grace. The ability to move with the weight of the world and never drop a thing. It didn’t come cheap or easy or quickly, but Atlas thought as he wiggled the toes of his left foot and prepared to try another singular step, to build upon the last two and aim toward an eventual fourth and he knew, he knew as he knew the exacting mass of his burden, that through grace he would prevail.

Oh, he thought as his left foot began to raise once more, won’t they be surprised when I jog by Olympus. Laughing. Yes, I must master laughing as well. The shaking will be a problem, but nothing impossible. Nothing would be impossible again, he knew.

But I had to make it. I had to.

Some mornings are harder than others. Sometimes even 16oz of Red Bull doesn’t really cut through the fog. Then again this particular fog has been hanging low over me since sometime Saturday. Which could mean that my crappy sleep schedule is messing with me extra shittily the last few days, or I’ve gone around the bend and am now on the crazy train to senile.

Given that I’m a cranky old man, I’m betting against the sleep schedule.

So when I start to drool and curse all you motherfuckers out and wave a stick around, claiming that “Gertie the Stick here will teach y’all a lesson,” oh wait, that just means it’s Tuesday, doesn’t it? Shit.

Well fuck us all sideways and six times on Easter, I guess we’re stuck. I’ll continue to just go crazy over here and you guys golf clap and score it over there, I suppose. Like always, you know? Nothing fancy.

Hey Maverick?

Yeah Goose?

Now, this is the story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute just sit right there I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air.

In west Philadelphia born and raised on the playground was where you spent most of your days chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool and all shootin some b-ball outside of school. When a couple of guys who were up to no good startin making trouble in your neighborhood. You got in one little fight and your mom got scared she said ‘You’re movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air.’
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So first Aidan asks me about the anti-life equation. Which, for those that don’t know, is the equation that robs you of all higher thought and makes you a mind slave and erases individuality and so on. Kirby’s great idea. Darksied is always trying to find it. Grant Morrison, the other year, used it and came up with a written form of the anti-life equation:

loneliness + alienation + fear + despair + self-worth ÷ mockery ÷ condemnation ÷ misunderstanding x guilt x shame x failure x judgment n=y where y=hope and n=folly, love=lies, life=death, self=Darksied

And then I was talking to Hammerpants. And he had a flash of sheer genius. “You should write the anti-internet equation” he said to me. And so I have, with his help. Read this and know that by reading it I shall control you, foolish beings!

forums + alienation + lolcats + despair + self-worth ÷ goatse.cx ÷ every zig ÷ IRC x guilt x shame x yaoi x judgment n=y where y=outside and n=basement, love=robots, ninjas=pirates, self=will never give you up, will never let you down

ALL IS ONE IN DARKSIEDAPK!

It seems the floor of the building I am in has a Techno Dog^™. It’s this tiny dog, from the sound of its bark, and it won’t shut up. The thing is… it’s barking like this:

YAPYAP (pause) YAP
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
(pause)
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
(pause)
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
YAPYAP (pause) YAP
YAPYAP (pause) YAP

Which has lead to my sitting here going “Oontz oontz oontz” to lend it a backbeat. Oh, Techno Dog^™. How I want to strangle you. Or give you a record deal. Or both.

YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]
YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]
YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]
(pause)
YAPYAP [oontzoontz](pause) YAP [oontz]
YAPYAP [oontzoontz](pause) YAP [oontz]
(pause) [during which I say "Keyboard solo!" loudly]
YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]
YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]
YAPYAP [oontz](pause) YAP [oontz oontz]