Archive for the ‘Comics Review’ Category

Welcome back kiddies. Can you remember all the way back to the second or third article in this series, where I told you that when I got to the second last story. You have to remind me about something? Well this is it. This is the second last story. It’s also my second last article. The Horse at this point has been reduced almost to the point of a puddle. But I do have to get the last couple whacks in.

Then, I can finally get on to some more very interesting comic books that I found recently. The story I’m talking about today, is titled Loathsome Lore “Faustian deals”. It basically is a rambling narrative, which speculates about certain celebrities having been in league with the devil.

It’s interesting comic books stuff. The story is credited as “Haufner, Braun, and Gore. And the art is by Hilary Barta. As I said in a previous article, much of the writing in this particular piece seems to have been lifted from a 1974 issue of Hustler magazine. (That was the one in which they had the article, about Anton Szandor LaVey).

Now I have to complain about an editorial decision made in the magazine. As I said before, I had never heard of Robert Johnson before the story Hell Hound Blues. I naturally thought it was just made up for the story. That story was the second story in the magazine, Faustian deals was the second last. But in it it referenced the deal that Robert Johnson made with the devil.

I believe these two stories should have been switched in position, for two reasons. The first is that it would’ve allowed Loathsome Lore to introduce the concept of Robert Johnson’s deal with the devil before it was used in a story.

The second and possibly more important reason to switch these two stories is that Hell Hound Blues is the best story in the magazine. It should have been second last. Well, actually, it should’ve been last. But second last still would’ve been better.

As for the writing of this particular tale. It seems interesting enough. It is not however a story. I like it. But it really is not a story. The artwork is its saving grace and is unquestionably the best artwork in the entire magazine (not including the frontispiece by Bernie Wrightson).

Hallelujah! Although I’m not quite finished with this horse, yet. I feel are renewed vigor. I’m into the home stretch. There is only one more story to talk about and that one’s going to be pretty easy, because it’s a reprint. Yes kiddies, they didn’t even bother closing with something new.

The tale in question, Daddy And The Pie will have to wait for the next post. Only then will I be able to inflict the final whack.

Be careful driving home, and remember – time is nature’s way of keeping everything from happening at once.

I am still doing the ongoing review of Dark Horse’s Creepy issue #1. This is day 5. Today I will be talking about All The Help You need. It is one of the good stories so I don’t need to say much about it.

You may be wondering about the image accompanying this post. It is from the story under discussion. But it is not colored in the magazine. In looking over my last few posts I noticed that all the images have been gray scale. That’s what the book is. But on the blog it gets monotonous (snicker). So I figured screw it, and colored the picture myself. Further down the post you can see a different example that I left alone.

The author of this story is Neil Kleid. He has won awards for being awesome. And in this story he did not disappoint. It’s a great story. He’s a good writer, and if you look him up on Google you can find a lot of his earlier works. I will be seeking more of his stuff.

The other guy is obviously a good illustrator, which you can tell just by looking at this story, but what a lot of people don’t know is that he did not originally start out to be an artist.

Just after the war…

Brian was born in 1953 just after the United States lifted the ban on selling rubber. This was fortunate for his family, because his father had been a freelance rubber salesman before the war.  Since the United States entry into WWII his dad was forced into alternative lines of work such as going door to door and begging for dust. Also, after spending his last money on a mail-order trade school, his father tried his hand at fish grooming, but was unable to get the necessary equipment because of all the fish clippers being sent to troops fighting in the south Pacific.

By the time Brian was 6, his father was back on top of the rubber game. With his father often gone for weeks on end and his mother too drunk to stop him, Brian took a great interest in tap dancing and the making of unusual noises using only his hands.

He graduated from the East Albert High School with a full tap-dancing scholarship. He then attended New Smithville University where he found himself unable to keep up with the demands of college English.

Although a brilliant tap-dancer, he lost is scholarship his second year due to the English Professor being an “asswipe”. In later interviews Brian referred to that Professor as “the cocksucker [who] had it in for me”.

Dazed, and still a little hung-over, he was wandering from door to door trying to find his girlfriend’s apartment when he noticed a circus recruitment poster in the local drugstore window.

The following morning he enlisted in Barnum & Bailey’s and became Willy the Tap-Dancing Clown.

Unfortunately for Willy, tap shoes don’t work on sawdust. After an agonizing three weeks of stomping almost to the point of exhaustion, just to try to make a sound, he was forced to juggle.

Again his natural talents came to his aid. Although two dead weasels in a burning wet sack could juggle better then he, the strange noises emanating from his hands whenever he managed to actually catch a ball made him a crowd favorite. After only 8 short months on the road he was promoted to King of the Circus and given a hand wash and wax, as was the custom.

By the late 60s the lesser circuses had all but shut down and even his was feeling the pinch from lack of public interest. Then if the failing circus wasn’t enough, he got caught up in an elephant molestation scandal.

A woman that he had fired several months earlier, accused him publicly of fondling the elephants. He denied the allegations, but by the time he was cleared of all charges the circus was unrecoverable.

He hanged himself in his own studio a year later.

His younger brother, Ned, found him still alive. He cut him down and called an ambulance. The doctor on call said that had Ned arrived a few days later, or had Brian hanged himself by the neck, rather than the nut-sack, he would have died.

Brian was placed into an asylum after that, where he remains to this day.

Wait…

That was Brian Chinchilla. The guy who drew this was Brian Churilla. Nevermind.

Point is I don’t need to write anything about this story. It’s great and both the people involved are very talented guys.

Look at the artwork, then go buy the book. I have two more stories to review and they are both good.

Tune in tomorrow kids for Loathsome Lore: Faustian Deals.

Is that brimstone I smell?

No.

I had eggs and beer last night.

Welcome to day four of the ongoing horse-pounding. We have gone through two stories and an introduction. One of those stories stank  and one was an entertaining romp into the dark recesses of a legendary blues singer.

Side note here: I never even heard of Robert Johnson until this issue of Creepy TNG. I assumed everything was made up for the story. It wasn’t till I read another review of it that I got a hint that it was based on reality (sort of). Who would have thought that a horror comic could actually be educational?

That being said, there was a problem with the editing of this issue. Remind me about it when I am on the second last story. But today I am talking about the third. A snuggly little love-fest called Chemical 13.

In my original review of Creepy I blew past this one with the remark that it was a waste of ink and I didn’t want to write about it, because it annoyed me so much. But my attention was called to it by another review on another blog.

In that post the reviewer actually chose this story as his favorite in the entire book. Odd, since a few sentences earlier he praised the publication  for not being just a collection of zombie stories (as are so prevalent these days), when the story in question is actually a zombie story! The only one in the book and not even a good one.

When I first got to this story I had mixed thoughts right off the bat. It was a Nazi story. I have nothing against those per se, but they tend to be done too often because they are easy. And, many times, they are not good. The authors seem to think that because the Nazis were interesting, then their story will be,  simply because it includes them.

Yes, you and I know things don’t work that way, but inexperienced authors fool themselves all the time. They mistake a cool idea for a good story. A good story can carry a lousy idea, but the best idea in the world cannot carry a lousy story. It’s a fact folks. Don’t shoot me; I’m only the messenger. Chemical 13 fails on a few levels.

The waste of ink in this issue was overwhelmingly The Curse. Chemical 13 didn’t suck outright. It just wasn’t good. The lovely gray-scale art style used for it set a mood, and was the main reason I expected more from the story than it delivered.

It could have been much better. The basic plot is that the German’s round a bunch of naked men into a room and then gas them. The twist is that they are trying an experimental gas called chemical 13. The origin of the gas, and the reason for trying it are ignored. But it’s a short story so I give them that.

After the gassing is over, the naked men, we’ll call them Jews for short, are seen to still be alive. With no reason given, one of the soldiers totally freaks out when he looks in the room. They carry this freak-out across two pages before they finally get around to showing what he saw. Then what they show, looks merely like a bunch of naked Jews standing there.

I can’t speak for Nazis, but seeing live Jews when I was expecting dead ones is not very frightening to me. At the end of the day, this is a comic book. That means it is illustrated. Between the writing and the illustrations they should be able to convey the concept one way or the other. In this case, neither of them did their job.

At this point, I started not liking this story. When one of the officers peeks in, he announces that the stuff did not work and that they should flood the room with the usual stuff. But some Doctor argues with him and says that these men are actually dead, but standing anyway. And that he needs to examine them.

Here it comes…

They know that they have a room full of undead Jews. They know that they have a gas available to ‘finish the job‘. They know that something is very badly wrong, and that one of their soldiers is in complete mental collapse and that the officer present ordered them to use the regular gas (no I will not say the name of it. It’s historical you can look it up if you like), so what could make more sense, than to decide to open the door and have a bunch of guys walk into the room?

This bad decision is followed by much screaming and shooting and running and locking helpless pleading Nazis in the chamber to, no doubt, be devoured by a room full of angry Jewish vegetables.

This story fails on so many levels, it really seems as though no one involved really put any thought nor effort into it at all. The term phoning it in leaps to mind.

I rescind my original scathing indictment of this particular story. It is not an abomination. It is merely lame.

Come back tomorrow for the next exciting installment of Creepy or Crappy?

On the menu for tomorrow, kiddies, is All The Help You Need, a manic tale of food and loathing.