Lonely Days Are Gone, I’m A-Goin’ Home My Baby, Just-A Wrote Me A Letter

I don’t think they’d even get past the salutation before it devolved into a melee…a donnybrook…a brawl…a slobberknocker…they’d fight, you know?

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via Kotaku and Andy Timm

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The Batman: TAS Effect

A staple of my after school experience. *sniff sniff* Heart of Ice still gets me.

kaptainkristian‘s YouTube page is well worth checking out for more excellent content in this vein but if you’re too lazy to click a link, check out some choice video after the jump (which is a clickable link! Congratulations, you played yourself.) Continue reading

More Batman Mondo Posters Than You Can Shake a Crowbar Covered in Jason Todd’s Blood At

You have to hand it to them: when Mondo decides to go big, they go BIG. To celebrate 75 years of Batman, they’ve commissioned an epic crap ton of Batman art which they first showed off in their swank Austin, TX gallery and have now put up for sale. Grab ’em while you can but based on how Mondo things go, they are probably all sold out. Sorry bro! But at least you can peep them all here to your heart’s content. PEEP AWAY!

The Black Mirror by Jock & Francesco Francavilla. 24”x36” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 275. Printed D&L Screenprinting. $50

The Black Mirror by Jock & Francesco Francavilla. 24”x36” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 275. Printed D&L Screenprinting. $50

Red Rain by Francesco Francavilla. 24”x36” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 225. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $50

Red Rain by Francesco Francavilla. 24”x36” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 225. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $50

The Riddler by Jason Edmiston. 18”x24” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 200. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $45

The Riddler by Jason Edmiston. 18”x24” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 200. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $45

Batman by Brandon Holt. 18”x24” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 275. Printed by Burlesque of North America. $45

Batman by Brandon Holt. 18”x24” screen print. Hand numbered. Edition of 275. Printed by Burlesque of North America. $45

Batman / Man Bat by Alex Pardee. 24”x36” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 200. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $80 / set

Batman / Man Bat by Alex Pardee. 24”x36” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 200. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $80 / set

Heart of Ice (Variant) by Phantom City Creative. 18”x24” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 125. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $65

Heart of Ice (Variant) by Phantom City Creative. 18”x24” screen print. Hand Numbered. Edition of 125. Printed by D&L Screenprinting. $65

More than you even possibly believe, after the jump. Continue reading

With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Ninety-Five: The Last Year of the Lou Albano Look

1995 was the last time I was able to braid my infamous facial hair, subjugating the structure into facial follicle art with leftover orthodontic rubber bands. A summer job in a defunct “intellectual” toy store called for a trim of the whiskers, and the goat never restored itself to full-blown dark-black-stink-netherworld-tentacled glory. Captain Lou Albano, we miss you.

Now, we progress to the topic of the day, and I’m gonna keep it brief: I’ve had a particular opinion solicited by the founder of this website. I’ve been asked to provide my thoughts on the super(annoying) super-hero mania that has gripped the TV and cinema nations since Dafoe channeled the Goblin 12 years ago. I was fair to the TV shows, so I watched a few episodes “on demand”: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Gotham, and The Flash. I gritted my teeth and endured the viewings. Upon their conclusion, I hit the white boxes in the back of the closet. The “slick and polish” treatment and the youthful twist are as equally offensive as the “gritty” loquaciousness and mundane posturing. Look, kids, I’m always gonna be on the outside looking in, leering with the gargoyles before being eaten by the moon. I simply cannot endorse this movement because the shows & movies are so g*ddamned boring. They are akin to the zombie craze: the more you shoot ’em, the more they don’t just stay dead, and more of ’em explode from the armpits of Hollywood. Same ol’ song and dance without anything so original that you are transfixed. If you crave good superhero TV, IFC shows “Batman” on the weekends. There’s the outland of which we can all be proud. I am sorry I can’t improve upon this review; I can only say it all stinks and their collective popularity are creating the wrong kind of comic book fans, the ones who think “Justice League Europe” is delightfully retro and who never crack a grin while reading ” ‘Mazing Man”. Just get ’em off my planet and call me when it’s done; I’ll be under the bed with the back issues, keeping the purists and the whole g*ddamned renaissance of comic books on life support.

Trailer Park:Batman: Arkham Knight aka Whatcha Gonna Do, BROTHER, When Batmania Runs Wild On YOU??

Why hello there, Rocksteady Crew (No. No. Yes.) Nice to see you back after what was clearly a mistake in letting the Batman: Arkham X franchise flop limply into the hands of some other studio for the quick cash in.  PLEASE tell me that Warner Bros. isn’t going to go the Call of Duty annualized route by alternating  studios to pump more Batman games into the the market. Part of what made Arkham Asylum  and Arkham City so damn brilliant was not only the clear care that were put into the product by Rocksteady but also the fact there wasn’t always another one right around the corner. The previous two Batman games were an event, not just “Ugh, guess it’s time to buy this year’s Batman game, here’s my $65.” I’m looking forward to flipping around the streets of Gotham and just crushing the absolute fuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge out of some goons who desperately need a knuckle sandwich or three. Here’s some batarangs for your facial, what’s up bro? Regardless, games that look like THIS are the reason I bought a PS4.

Sidenote: I hate large animals who hide in pools of water; case in point, the shark from Arkham City as well as the thing in the lake from Resident Evil 4. Damn I hate water.

With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Seventy-Six: The Bad Monkey (25 Years Later)

Friends…Romans…Highwaymen…

I ‘appear’ before you today in earnest entreaty of your unimpeded attention. I must asseverate your utmost consideration is required, as I shall present to you a controversial platform of argumentation, indirectly born from yet gently cajoled by the recent ‘glide-into-eternity’ of a Hollywood personage. If your interest has been piqued, I shall endeavor to ensnare your engrossment as I channel my inner Perry Mason/Ben Matlock/Arnie Becker in defense of a universally reviled cinematic production that deserves thoughtful re-assessment of its cultural and entertainment value.

Vox Populi, the Prosecution…Kentucky Jay Headstone, the Defense..in…

The People vs. GHOSTBUSTERS II

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jay. Don’t adjust your bolo so tightly. You lured me with such a dramatic introduction just to tell me you are going to champion this blot, this baneful and bloody scab on the forehead of Bill Murray?! Get outta my face! I could be reading bleacherreport.com right now for WWE prognostications from semi-conscious journalists who couldn’t identify a Wild Samoan from a Fijian Islander if a bazooka was aimed at the New Mexico of their anatomy!

Evidently, the facial contortions of Afa and Sika amplify the odious contempt placed upon Ghostbusters II. Readers, place your pints on the coasters and snap into a Slim Jim; I may not convince you that this movie is a masterpiece – it certainly doesn’t rank with its illustriously innovative progenitor – but I can’t sit comfortably and endure the excoriation this movie has ‘earned’ during the past quarter-century to impugn its relative effulgence in extramundane entertainment. Hey, I’m mirthlessly misanthropic and hate the expression ‘I’m just saying…’ that folks holler like it’s gonna give them magical powers, so…exit the meth lab and play liberal for a spell, hmm?

The Twilight of the Endlessly Quotable

The era of the Endlessly Quotable Movie gets pulled over by Sgt. Buddy Lee Parker of the State Patrol and written a citation. Tremors hits the theaters in 1990, and it’s the pause button on Driving the Nitwits to Homicide With Your Ceaseless Citation of Movie Lines. Tell me you didn’t turn to your friend and declare, “Damn, that’s clever” when the boys faced the Scoleri brothers in the courtroom and declared “Do…Ray…Egon!” Assure me you haven’t watched the New York Giants during the first half of any season without recalling Dr. Janosz Poha’s condemnation, “Everything you are doing is bad. I want you to know this.” Friends, please finish this lyric for me: When there’s something strange in the neighborhood/Who ya gonna call?” If you spilled your Perrier when you leapt from the sofa and exclaimed, “HE-MAN!”, then you really cannot refute the power and glory. The atomic weight of Cobalt is 58.9! There are three million AND one completely miserable assholes living in the tri-state area! Egon is sleeping with the pink slime! You’re short, your bellybutton sticks out, and you’re a terrible burden on your mother! I’d rest my case at this point, but the left side of the body still feels like it’s on the end of a forkful of spaghetti being slurped into the mouth of Galactus, so we progress to…

Nerdvana: The Final Gunfight of Rick Moranis

The sand was cool, the water was clean, and Rick Moranis never turned his eyes from his perch on the lifeguard’s chair. Louis Tully remains the Nebbish Nero-Not-Zero of our movie lives. Last Hurrah for the Mighty Moranis, with the boom-boom-pow success of Ghostbusters II, Honey I Shrunk the Kids, and Parenthood. He had the crown, gang. Then he Blew Up the Kid, played an unconvincing G-man in My Blue Heaven, buried the Barney under the Rubble in The Flintstones, and coached football (no. no, no, no) in Little Giants. With his wife’s death in 1991, Rick left Hollywood and embraced his children, only being ‘seen’ by voice in various animated productions. The top of the mountain is just a point; if you sit, you tumble, and your descent only ends when you hit your gravestone. Yo, Rick, It Was a Nice Fifteen Minutes, Wasn’t It?

Bill Murray is a Bitter Tonic

Every actor craves repertoire enhancement for the resume, but Mr. Murray needed to return to Peter Venkman after the ambitious yet lugubrious The Razor’s Edge. Droll and self-confident,yet moral and self-effacing, Dr. Venkman is the anti-jargon Mad Doctor to Drs. Stantz and Spengler. “Heck, yeah, I love ghosts, and hell, yeah, I’m gonna bust ‘em and send ‘em back to the Brimstone Valley of Southeastern Connecticut where they belong!” This movie proves he best connects with the audience when he remains a minimalist misfit. Post-GB II life has been multifarious and mercurial for the Dalai Lama’s Apt Pupil: Quick Change, Mad Dog and Glory, Kingpin, Larger Than Life, The Man Who Knew Too Little, Osmosis Jones, Garfield The Movie, Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties, Get Smart, Passion Play, A Glimpse Inside the Mind of Charles Swan III. Slippery, indeed. Now he is firmly implanted as the linchpin of Wes Anderson’s Structural Cinema (although these ventures, too, have been uneven, with Moonrise Kingdom placing Murray on the periphery of a cock-eyed yet charismatic young romance, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou staple-gunning Billy to the crucifix for a near-lethal paintball barrage of lachrymose and ennui)…GB II puts Murray in firm form and might’ve been the last time we said, “There goes my hero”. However, when Superman and Captain Atom tuck in after a long day of crimefightin’, do they echo Murray’s cynical supplication?

If the Summer of ’89 was Voltron, GB II Would be the Red Lion

Gerard Butler couldn’t survive the bloodfest that was the Summer of ’89. The summer was Survivor Series, three months before the World Wrestling Federation’s Thanksgiving Night tradition. The sides were clearly delineated, and GB II was the crafty ‘technician’ of the team. A battle of this ferocity hasn’t seen its equal or even a worthy challenger.

The Epic Eleven: Ghostbusters II, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Batman, Honey I Shrunk the Kids, Weekend at Bernie’s, Lethal Weapon 2, UHF, Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan, Uncle Buck, The Abyss, Parenthood

VS.

The What-the-Hell One-Shy-of-Dozen: Casualties of War, Pink Cadillac, A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child, Lock-Up, Turner and Hooch, When Harry Met Sally…, The Karate Kid Part III, Licence to Kill, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, Dead Poets Society, No Holds Barred

Insight abound from the Epic Eleven: We discover Michael Richards is kinda weird when he romances a mop – Joe Pesci is a lovable pain-in-the-ass – John Candy is scary when chomping a cigar and wielding a power drill but makes the best (and biggest pancakes) in Illinois – Terry Kiser finally trascends his “Been There, Done That” status by playing a corpse with morbid perfection – The Machete-Wielding Madman Hits the Hottest of the Five Boroughs and Makes a Killing (Actually, a Lot of ‘Em) – Steve Martin is Father of the Year (soon to be Father of the Bride in 1991, don’t get confused) – oh yeah: BATMANIA. I was infected. I screamed, “Never Rub Another Man’s Rhubarb!” to Shop-Rite customers when goaded by my brother’s E.L.Fudge cookies.

Powerful movies that have stayed with us and managed to balance the Seemingly Incessant Crap-Fest from the One-Shy-of-Dozen, who offered: Alex P. Keaton in Vietnam, implausible casting – Clint Eastwood as a Rodeo Clown, too irreverent – Freddy Krueger collects a paycheck and swallows teenagey pimply souls in a dreary, unimaginative sequel – Stallone vs. Donald Sutherland, not as psychologically riveting as it sounds – Tom Hanks with a Badge and a Dog, implausible AND hackneyed – Danny and Miyagi put audiences to sleep – Timothy Dalton nearly flattening a franchise – Same for Shatner and the Enterprise crew – Robin Williams’ Dramatic Side, Hairy and Scary and G-ddamned Overbearing – oh yeah: HULKAMANIA. Worst Movie Villain of ’89:

I’ll be fair; I might not have done a great job of convincing you Ghostbusters II should be sheltered from any further put-down. However, you must admit that, as Summertime at the Movies went, very few, if any, matched 25 years ago..

Bill Murray inverted to maudlin self-replication. Ernie Hudson remained the reigning World Champion of “There’s That Guy Again..” status. Ramis wrote and directed prolifically, collecting spores, molds, fungus and accolades. Aykroyd…well, what do you have to say for yourself, Danny?

Can you dig it?